


Jewel Thieves and Card Sharks

by demonsrunwhenscofieldgoestowar



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Action, Angst, Consensual Non-Consent, Drinking, Dubious Morality, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Gambling, Heist, Humor, Mildly Dubious Consent, Past Abuse, Recreational Drug Use, Robbery, Romance, Trauma, Unrequited Love, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2018-05-06
Packaged: 2018-11-23 09:32:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 37,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11399838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/demonsrunwhenscofieldgoestowar/pseuds/demonsrunwhenscofieldgoestowar
Summary: While Mick is ransacking the bank vault, Leonard notices a sexy, feisty thing among the bank patrons and decides to take her hostage. Things get complicated.





	1. Temper

Leonard was smitten with her from the first moment they laid eyes on her. A petite looking thing, one with daring chestnut eyes and flowing hair the color of coal. When they barged into the bank, she immediately hit the ground before anyone else – _smart,_ he noticed, and he loved it – as Mick melted open the vault door.

And while she was cautious, she was also fearless. While all the other bank patrons had their hands on their heads, bowed down, quaking, almost on the verge of releasing their bowels, she steadily looked up. He felt his heart skip when her warm mahogany eyes met the depths of Leonard’s icy gaze.

Full, wine red lips, parted; not for the frantic breathing of panic like everyone else, but steady, calculated breathing.

She was watching.

Leonard forced him to look away from those perfect, plush lips to meet her eyes once more; brows unfurrowed, just curious, excited, gazing dark eyes.

There’s something unique and special about this one.

 _I’m gonna steal her_ , he decided.

He paused for a moment while he threw a thick canvas bag at the shop teller to fill with cash.

_Okay, maybe not steal then. Borrow._

\-------

 

As they finished taking their claim to the bank, Mick dropped his sack of loot at Leonard’s feet and grabbed the girl by the arm. For the first time that whole night, Leonard saw that bravery waver in her eyes. With his brute strength, Mick hoisted her up, almost as if he was picking up his dog by the paw. The sound of Mick’s leather gloves creaking against the friction with her leather jacket were like pins in Leonard’s ears.

And with the biggest balls he’s ever seen, Leonard watches the girl jerk her arm out of Mick’s grip, cock said arm back, and clock him straight in the jaw.

While Mick paused to ruminate in this tiny, five foot four thing striking him with the might of a thousand suns, Leonard could not help but hold back his laughter, ignoring the crowd of worried hostages peering from the floor.

“What the fuck is so funny?” Mick growled.

Before Leonard could even answer, the lovely little harpy interrupted.

“Touch me like that one more time,” she snarled. “I _dare_ you, motherfucker.”

Leonard melted at the sound of her voice; like Marilyn, coated in with honey, whiskey, and steel. His eyes flickered over to Mick, who didn’t seem affected. He grunted and grabbed her by the arm once more and pulled her close; her tiny frame flush against Mick’s hulking exterior, for some reason, brewed such strong jealousy he felt heat prickle his scalp.

“Listen, little girl,” Mick rumbled, “we are taking you with us. And if you fuckin’ hit me one more time––”   

As if almost on cue, she strikes him again; this time, an open palm slap on the same spot. She might be small, but she is so strong she hit him hard enough for Mick to turn his cheek. Even from his distance, Leonard can already see the painful blossom of purple forming on his cheek. She curled her hands into fists, ready to fight.

Leonard noticed that look, that look of growing anger on Mick’s face, but was shocked to see a smirk crack upon his face as he slowly turned to look at the girl. Mick lunged and grabbed by the hair, heat gun pressed against her temple.

“Let me roast the little bitch,” he growled, tightening the grip on her hair.

Leonard pursed his lips. He looked at Mick. Then he looked at her. She looked back at him, her eyes betraying nothing, save for some winces of pain.

“C’mon, Mick,” Leonard drawled, speaking for the first time in the entire heist. “You know you don’t treat a lady that way.”

Leonard sees her eyes twitch in confusion and Mick is just getting angrier and grabbing her tighter.

“She’s an insolent little cunt,” he hissed. “We could take anyone else here with us and they’d be easier to handle.”

 _Speaking of which…_ Leonard thought as he noticed some of the other hostages getting restless. He fired a blast of his cold gun in the air to reintroduce the potential fear of bodily harm and calmly resumed his conversation.

“I’m not so sure about that,” he purred, slowly approaching the pair.

Her eyes never left Leonard as he got closer and closer, sauntering over to her like a tiger.

“Let go of her,” he said once he was arm’s length away.

Mick stares at Leonard incredulously before pushing her away in a huff. As he does so the young woman flips her hair back and rushes towards Mick, ready to hit him again.

 _Hot head,_ Leonard thought, amused.

“Miss, enough,” he said sharply, effectively stopping her in her tracks. “Please turn around and look at me.”

With hesitation, the girl does so, slowly drawing her eyes up to meet his eyes. Leonard examines her with interest. Her hair out of place, he attempts to tuck it back behind her ear but she slaps his hand away, to which he grabs her wrist – her skin, so soft and smooth, warm to his touch but cool at the same time – while clicking his tongue, disapprovingly.

He gazed at her, taking in every part of her face and unconsciously moving closer towards her, until he was snapped out of it when she wrested her arm away from him. He kept his lips pressed hard together to keep himself from smiling.

“I apologize for my friend here,” he hummed, bowing slightly.

Leonard gently took her hand, waiting for her to push him away or jerk her hand out. She watched him, cautiously, as he brought her knuckles up to his lips and kissed her hand, heart skipping again as he pulled away from her.

She seemed to soften as he let go of her hand. He glanced at Mick, who was regarding him with a confused look.

 _You see, Mick? You don’t always need to be rough,_ Leonard thought smugly.

He looked her up and down, noticing her black skinny jeans, combat boots, and white tee.

_Looks like she dresses to be ready for anything._

“Let us go,” she said softly, her gaze unwavering and steadfast. “We’ve done nothing––”

“Actually, you punched me in the face,” Mick angrily interjected, “So you _did_ do something wrong.”

Before he could continue, Leonard says to the girl, “It’s true you’ve done nothing wrong but––”

Wailing sirens got closer and closer and the sounds of screeching tires are heard outside. Leonard smirked.

_Right on time._

“––We need insurance for our getting out. We can’t take anyone else here since they might panic and do something stupid. You’re the calmest one here so we need to take you.”

She stared at him as he spoke so matter-of-factly. To try to convince her, he kissed her hand one more time, and this time, she was more receptive.

“Please don’t make us do anything bad,” he crooned, looking up at her from his lashes.

He may have been hallucinating but if he was not mistaken, he could’ve sworn she blushed a bit. Her small soft hand suddenly felt warmer in his palm.

“Don’t hurt anyone.”

He smiled at her and nodded. From the corner of his eye, he could see Mick’s vein pulsating in his forehead, ready to burst. She looked at him once more before bowing her eyes again and nodded.

“Now, Miss,” he drawled, the cold gun whirring excitedly as he put it on his shoulder. “I apologize in advance but I’m gonna need to have my gun on you.”

Her eyes darted towards the spinning lights apprehensively as he aimed it at her.

“No funny business, please,” he said with a gentle smile.


	2. Carpooling

The girl was just waiting on line to use the ATMs while people rushed about her. Her head snapped to the door when it opened. The guy wearing the giant blue parka and goggles – _who the fuck wears goggles for sunglasses?_ she thought while chortling for a moment – strolled in so casually she didn’t even notice the giant gun at his side. Her eyes widened as he aimed it to the ceiling, waiting for everyone to look at him before pulling the trigger. In that quick moment, she had immediately dropped to the floor, hands on top her head as the blast hit the marble ceiling.

As fist–sized pieces of frozen rock broke off on impact and smashed all over, the other bank patrons screamed and ducked down around her. Her heart pounded hearing the chaos echo around her, with guttural shouts of “don’t move and no one gets hurt!” bouncing off the walls. She squeezed her eyes shut, taking control of her breath.

As she calmed down, she heard her surroundings quiet down as well. Nothing but the spinning noises of the counting machines running, the soft thud of stacks of wrapped cash getting thrown into soft bags, and the occasional whimper of bank patrons. She slowly opened her eyes and raised her head. She felt her scalp prickle, immediately feeling like she made a mistake, as she saw one of them staring at her –– the one in the blue parka. This time, she doesn’t feel the urge to laugh at his goggles.

She’s seen him on TV before. He’s the one that uses that gun that blasts out ice, considered a world class thief––

She stifled a gasp.

_Holy shit. That’s Leonard Snart!_

He held her gaze for a little while before pulling off his goggles, but she couldn’t look away; they were the most wintery blue eyes she’s ever seen. He cracked a bit of a smile at her, making her flush. She broke her trance when she heard stomping footsteps echo from the vault.

A man of large, colossal stature–– _that’s the other one!_ she realized––dropped a sack of cash that made a resounding _wumph_ at Snart’s feet before he turned, walking directly towards the girl. She recognized him, with growing dread, as Mick Rory as he got closer; she gulped at the thick layer of scar tissue down his strong neck. His dark, angry eyes bore into her as he gripped her arm tight and hard, lifting her up with almost cartoon-like ease.

In her panic, she managed to wrench her arm out of his grip–– _that’s gonna leave a bruise_ ––and punched him, almost like a reflex. She expected him to knock her teeth out but he just stopped moving; almost confused that he got hit. And the girl herself was further befuddled when she heard Snart laugh.

“Touch me like that again,” she said as confidently and bravely as she could over the brutish one talking. “I dare you, motherfucker.”

She ignored Snart, who was just leaning his weight on one leg, watching. Her eyes flickered to Rory when he started talking but she only caught him calling her a “little girl” so she struck him again in the same spot, out of anger rather than panic and with an open palm instead of a closed fist. This time, he did not hesitate when he lunged back out and grabbed her by the hair, his heat gun pressed to her face, uncomfortably hot.

“Let me roast the little bitch,” he growled.

She held her breath and squeezed her eyes shut as she waited for him to burn her face off. There was a moment of silence, and the girl realized that Rory was asking permission from Snart.

The words, “C’mon, Mick, you know you don’t treat a lady that way,” rolled off his tongue much like in a way peppermint and fresh pine would dance on one’s taste buds; it was like a breath of fresh air to hear his voice.

_Mick._

What an ordinary sounding name for a guy that’s known as “Heat Wave.”

Before she knew it, Snart was in front of her, demanding Rory to let her go. He does, begrudgingly shoving her a little. The girl was ready to hit him again but Snart stops her, demanding her to look at him. The girl slowly turned around and her breath hitched in her chest.

She never realized how handsome Captain Cold himself was until now.

She let him gently kiss her hand––cool lips feeling like ice against her hot skin––as he convinced her to simply just come with them.

It seemed a reasonable enough explanation; she really was calmer than everyone else in the bank. And she was confident in herself that she could handle her own if getting in an altercation. So the girl made one simple request before leaving with the two men.

“Don’t hurt them.”

And she heard some gentle words float off his lips and a cold jab through her leather jacket in the back.

\-------

Mick Rory threw the sacks of loot in the trunk before clambering in his seat. The girl did her best to keep her composure as Snart nudged her into the van with his cold gun. She cursed as she almost fell head first into Rory’s stomach. He grunted and shoved her away, her back colliding roughly against Snart’s chest. She looked up at him, mouth curved down in an angry scowl, but he just smirked at her, making the butterflies jump in her stomach.

_A real smooth criminal._

Pushing away these adolescent feelings disgustedly when turning back around, the girl felt a twitch of anxiety spread through her body; she can’t get kidnapped now.

 _Ohh, God, my friends gonna bug out,_ she thought, eyes wide open and almost oblivious that she got kidnapped as a hostage. _What about my mom? Oh, fuck, what about work?! This is the absolute worst time to get fired––_

She was jolted out of her thoughts as the van pulled away from the side with screeching wheels. The girl couldn’t see the driver’s face, but he or she navigated the metal death trap of a van into traffic with ease. Her eyes were fixated on the road, heart rate raising higher and higher as they drove faster and faster into the busy intersection.

“Don’t look at that, Sweetheart, look at me.”

His voice was smooth and cool, careless but not sloppy. Chills ran down her neck as she felt his cold fingers tip her chin up to make her look at him. Those familiar somersaults in her stomach came back looking up at the captivating criminal. He smiled as he looked down at her, making her feel shy as her cheeks turned rosy once more.

“That’s _much_ better _,_ ” he murmured, lingering on the word _much._ “I’m Leonard. This one’s name is Mick.”

The girl glanced at the hulking man in front of her, who brought his heat gun close to her cheek, daring her to move. She looked away, trying to avoid the sickening warmth as much as possible. She tried to summon some courage into her voice but was disappointed when she was shakier than expected.

“I know who you are.”

Snart curiously furrowed his brows and cocked his head.

“Do you, now?”

“Sometimes, they call you Captain Cold. Sometimes they call _him,”_ the girl said, stressing the word with disdain, “Heat Wave.”

The one he calls Mick let out a humorless, dry chuckle while Snart smirked.

“Ooh, Kitten,” he said flirtatiously, as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Call me ‘Captain’ one more time.”

She held back a gasp as she felt his breath fan behind her ear and neck and looked back in front of her, doing her best to ignore the feeling ignited in her loins. She noticed Mick rolling his eyes at him hitting on her.

She gasped in shock as her vision went black from a soft cloth around her eyes; a blindfold, she realized.

 _Nope, nope, nope,_ she thought, freaking out.

She started grabbing at Snart’s wrists, trying to stop him.

“Calm down,” he stressed, struggling with her a little bit.

He grabbed her left arm with his right and yanked, trying to subdue her but right as he did so, a loud thwack from Mick’s fist landed on her cheek. She felt her face fire up and eye shut involuntarily from the impact.

_Ohhhhh, God._

Hot and cold aching pain flowered from the point of impact. She cried out in agony and disorientation, fearing that her now throbbing cheek could be broken or cracked. Stars and black spots danced in her vision as she opened her eyes again to find that the left side of her face was resting on Snart’s chest – _wow, his strong, well-toned chest_ – while his arms were wrapped around her to catch her from Mick’s punch. They were yelling at each other. The girl caught bits and pieces of Snart yelling that they do not hurt innocent people while Mick just snarled that he was sick of her shit.

 _“Her shit?” Oh, he means me,_ she thought in an agonizing haze.

She felt her eyes rolling into the back of her head as she put her hand on his chest while catching her breath. She heard Snart whispering into her ear, asking if she was alright and that she was going to be okay. As the spots receded from her eyes and her vision stopped shaking and tumbling, she opened her eyes to look at Mick, gun still trained on her while sneering.

She felt that horrible flare of fury rekindle quickly in her chest.

_How dare he._

The girl gripped Snart’s jacket to steady herself and while still leaning on his chest, she raised her right leg and kicked Mick’s hand holding the gun, _hard._ It flew out of his fingers and towards the back trunk of the van. As Mick snapped his head back to look at the girl, her heel swiftly met his nose and she just kept kicking, getting him really good a few times before Snart pulled her away and restrained her. She violently thrashed about in protest, screaming.

“ _Fuck you!”_ the girl roared as Snart held her arms with one hand and one arm slung around her chest pulling her back.

Mick looked back at her, livid; she had aggravated the starting bruises she left on him in the bank and now the purplish bruises are showing even more insistently with some nasty looking yellow splotches. Blood poured like a broken faucet from his crooked nose. He glared at his partner.

“Let me at her, Snart.”

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough already?” Snart fired back, still restraining the girl.

She glanced at herself in the rearview mirror; a nasty gash split her cheek under her right eye, blood dripping down her cheek and staining her shirt. It was starting to bruise that horrible spotty red around the gash. Her eye was starting to swell. Her breath quickened in dread when she realized the gash on her cheek would scar.

It just fueled her rage.

“No, let him at me, Snart,” she snarled.

Mick’s eyes flicked at her, measuring her.

“Yeah, Lenny, let her at him!”

The girl turned her attention over to the source of the voice; the driver. It was a woman.

“No, Lisa,” Snart snapped at the woman before turning back to the girl. “I’m so sorry, Babydoll.”

She couldn’t help but unconsciously keep track of his lexicon of pet names.

 _That makes three,_ she jadedly concluded while thinking backwards.

“Snart––”

“I will make sure,” he said loudly, talking loudly over Mick, “that he won’t touch you again for the duration of your stay with us.”

She paused to look up at him, ignoring Mick’s outrage.

“What does that mean, the duration of my stay?” she said slowly, apprehension growing.

Snart said nothing and quickly pulled the blindfold on her. As she was about to protest, Snart spoke.

“We can’t have you see where we’re going. You understand, I’m sure.”

She shut her mouth and crossed her arms. She heard him chuckle as he sat back, still mostly within the radius of his personal space as she tried to keep away from Mick as much as possible. Snart started gently stroking her hair as she tried to slap his hand away in her darkness but was too much in a daze to stop him. His hand gently wrapped around her wrist, his fingers cooling her skin.

“Don’t make me have to tie your hands together, too, Honey,” he drawled.

_Four._

She clenched her left fist as he released her right hand. The whole car rode in silence to their destination.

“Oh, and don’t worry,” he said as an afterthought. “We’re gonna patch that pretty cheek up real good once we get back.”


	3. C'mon Snake, Let's Rattle

They sat for the rest of the car ride – for what felt like another thirty minutes or so – in sullen silence. The girl was still pressed up against Snart, doing her best to keep her distance from Mick as much as possible. She pressed her lips together and breathed through her nose to keep calm, wishing she could see. She wondered if the pretty one would be looking at her with that intense ardor she liked – but won’t admit to liking – if she took her blindfold off.

Her heart skipped at the thought when she finally felt the car stop. She swayed forward a little while the doors opened and heard everyone get out the car. The cold gun charged up as she moved to take off the blindfold; she froze.

“Sorry, Darling,” she heard Snart say. “Can’t let you do that yet. If you give me your hand, I will help you out.”

“Five,” she sighed, trying not to wince feeling the sting in the right side of her face. She felt what was the start of a headache creeping up her temple and back around the crown of her head.

“Excuse me?”

“What?” she muttered, feeling her face flush; she didn’t realize she spoke out loud. “Nothing.”

“No, say it.”

She hated the amused interest she heard in his voice and she hated how he spoke to her like they were on a date. The girl stayed silent until she heard that faint whirring again.

“I started counting the number of times you call me pet names,” the girl sighed in resignation.

The whirring suddenly ceased. The air was bloated with tension until she heard him laugh.

“Are you really now?” he said, sounding like he was ready for banter.

“It’s not like I have anything else to do since you fucking kidnapped me,” she fired back, not in the mood to be laughed at.

Snart quieted a moment and, along with the sound, all warmth was sucked out of the atmosphere. She stilled again when she realized how close he was to her, picking up those icy and fresh notes of pine and wintergreen while he spoke.

“Why don’t you count how many different ones I can call you instead?”

Heart pounding fast, her mouth dropped open, shocked in both how daring and how backhanded the line was at the same time.

A loud buzzing started emanating from the inner breast pocket of her leather jacket.

Her phone.

_Fuck._

She tried not to react, stopping her hand from shooting to her pocket but it was too late; the vibrations were too loud in the quiet between them.

“Your phone, please.”

She clenched her fists before reaching into her pocket and handed the expensive rectangle to Snart, rage searing in every fiber of her being. She felt the phone leave her finger tips.

“Thank you. Anything else that you shouldn’t be having in your pockets as the role of the hostage?”

Once again, the girl said nothing.

“I absolutely don’t mind patting you down,” he purred, a playful lilt caressing his voice.

She pursed her lips as she reached into her jean pocket and pulled out her pocket knife; a four-inch stainless steel Kershaw blade.

“Mm, very nice,” he purred, plucking it from her fingers. “Nice balance, good quality steel. If I didn’t know better, I would say you’re––”

A surge of pain shooting through her face, disrupting her from the conversation. She hissed, clutching it in an attempt to soothe it.

“Let’s get you inside,” Snart said, suddenly sounding concerned.

She sat there, letting herself marinate in her irritation for a little longer before taking a deep breath and sticking out her right arm. She felt Snart’s cool fingers wrap around hers and let him lead her out of the car.

They could’ve walked a little faster, but she supposed he didn’t want her to trip. She considered jerking her hand away and tackling him before running, but the low buzz of his gun suggested he was ready in case she decided to try anything; it did not give her confidence that she could do it and get away safely. She exhaled out her nose and just let him lead her into wherever, armoring herself for whatever comes.

––––––– 

It was indiscernible which direction they were walking; for all she knew, they could’ve walked around in circles five times. The only way she knew they were inside was when she felt a warm blast of air, marking a temperature change; she didn’t even hear a door close. It was relatively quiet, save for the gentle droning of what sounded like machinery or generators. The blindfold came off in a flourish, and as her eyes adjusted to the light, she marveled at what she saw.

It was a warehouse but more put together to be as close to a livable space as possible. It was a little rundown and old—it’s still a warehouse––but it was clean. No musty smell one would expect. Rooms were made using giant industrial containers–– _how did they even get those in here?_ she wondered––with sliding doorways lasered through on the side. It was dark but she saw the glow of some of the most high tech screens, blueprints tacked to walls in one room, racks of tools and equipment in another. It was pretty magnificent for a pair of thieves.

She heard a whistle echo down and she looked up. Snart was further down in the makeshift hallway, cold gun still trained on her.

“I would prefer you not linger, Miss.”

He led the girl into a room that was their version of a triage room––equipment, charts, and hospital bedding laid out in an organized manner with a glass cabinet of medicine.

 _I guess criminals get injured, too,_ she thought, relishing in the damage she did to Mick in the van.

Almost ironically out of place, there was a random jukebox in the corner; classic, still in stellar condition, with The Marvelettes crooning quietly in the background.

A beautiful woman with flowing wavy brown locks was deftly curling a suture needle through Mick’s face. He was wincing quite terribly but never jerked away once. Her lips puckered in concentration as she got the last suture in. As she tied off the last stitch on Mick’s face, he got up, looked at himself in the mirror. He left the room after staring daggers at the girl. The woman sighed, straightening up and looking at Snart.

“’Bout time you came inside away from prying eyes,” she said dryly with a smile.

“Thanks, Lisa,” he said, nodding towards Mick with a smile.

_The driver._

She couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy watching him look at her like that. Lisa’s eyes slowly focused on the girl and she gasped, moving towards her quickly. Her surprise quickly turned into anger as she saw the damage Mick did to her.

The girl couldn’t help but notice she had arctic cobalt eyes, just like Snart.

“Well, he certainly got you better than I thought,” she muttered, shifting some hair out of her face.

The girl slapped her hand away, glaring at her.

“Well, I see she’s certainly a feisty one,” she said, scowling.

“Lisa, meet our most recent Leading Lady,” Snart said, as if presenting the girl in a circus routine.

The girl stared at him, sharply.

“Six,” she muttered.

“Is that your name or did Mick give you brain damage?” Lisa said sarcastically.

The girl said nothing. After a moment, Lisa put her hand out.

“In any case, lovely to meet you, Miss Six. I’m Lisa. Sorry I didn’t introduce myself earlier, I was busy weaving us through traffic.”

Miss Six grasped her hand with a strong grip; it’s only right to at least be respectful of the person who’s about to fix up her face. Lisa reciprocated the handshake accordingly.

“Leonard, would you like to go check up on your friend?” she asked calmly.

Knowing when he wasn’t wanted, he bowed, almost somewhat obsequiously. Snart stole another glance at Miss Six before leaving the room before leaving the room.

Miss Six stared awkwardly around, thinking about the other rooms she saw on the way in here, trying to rack her brain to remember what she saw in each room, what she could use to get out. She wondered if she would be able to find her way out –

_Ouch!_

She flinched away at a horrible burning sensation in her cheek; Lisa had a peroxide cotton ball soaked, dabbing at her cheek. She paused, hesitantly.

“Please let me clean your wound,” Lisa said calmly. “I could leave it be so I can keep being the only pretty one her but I don’t want you to get a nasty infection.”

She didn’t know if she was just being kind, but Miss Six let Lisa come back to her as she tied her hair into a ponytail. The cotton ball smarted horribly, as if taunting her.

She watched Lisa pull out a needle from the corner of her eye. Lisa prepped it, sucking up some medicine from a vial.

“Did you willingly tag along with these two or what?”

Lisa snorted with a smile.

“This needle’s full of anesthesia for when I sew the wound up, FYI. And I guess you can say, no, I don’t willingly tag along but he’s my brother.”

“Who?”

“Leonard. He’s my older brother.”

She felt herself going slack.

_That was a close one._

“What, were you gonna ask me to help you escape?” Lisa said nonchalantly as Lisa stuck the needle in her face.

“No,” Miss Six lied, trying to ignore the sharp stab in her cheek.

Lisa smiled, starting to loop the curved stitching needle with thread.

“It’s okay, Miss Six. Snart already figured you would try to convince me to let you go.”

“I technically didn’t,” Miss Six muttered, lying again.

There was a brief silence but not uncomfortable. She felt the anesthesia work in her face as Miss Six began to sew up the wound. She tried to get the image of the needle slipping in and out of her flesh out of her mind. When she was done, she exhaled. Lisa pulled a soft ice pack from the fridge and handed it to her. Miss Six immediately placed it over her eye. She exhaled as she felt the cold starting to suck the painful heat out.

“I’ll be right back.”

Then she flounced out of the room, locking the door behind her.

Miss Six briefly removed the ice pack and examined herself in the mirror; it was all the blood on her face that made her look worse than she really was. Once Lisa cleaned away the gore, the gash was much smaller and the bruising not as severe. The wound was the worst, but with Lisa’s handiwork, the scarring would evolve into a scar that would be but a small line on her cheekbone as long as she took care of it. Her eye was swollen but diligent icing would bring it down in no time.

A few minutes passed when she realized Lisa would not be returning for a good while. She began going through the room, ignoring the charts and medical models of the human body, pawing through drawers to try to find something that can be an aid in her escape. She got more and more frustrated until she heard a thud at the door and quickly turned around.

Mick stepped in, shutting the door ominously behind him and locking it.

“Hi, Pumpkin,” he growled.

Her first instinct was to run but he blocked her exit and her feet were glued to where they were out of absolute fear. He stepped into the room and into the light. Miss Six couldn’t help but revel in her handiwork. His left cheek was black and blue and yellow, very bloody from where the skin broke; his eye practically swelled shut. His right cheek caught a gash from her boot when she kicked him in the car but Lisa did just as good of a job on his face as she did hers. His nose was crooked from previous altercations but her incessant kicks in the car required Lisa’s attention to straighten out the bones; evidence showed with the white strips on his nose.

Mick threateningly took closer steps to her while she did her best to backpedal as subtly as possible.

“You think you’re safe now since Mister Freeze and his little sister got you,” he sneered, glowering down at her. “But they’re not here.”

“Mister Freeze, that’s a good one,” she scoffed.

She quickly regretted her mouth as she watched his glower turn darker. She continued to backing away, not making eye contact, but jolted once the small of her back made contact with the makeshift medical counter in the room.

 _Fuck,_ she thought, as Mick stood mere centimeters away.

She glanced to her left and to her right; he grabbed the counter behind her on either side, trapping her.

“No one can help you when he’s not around,” he snarled into her ear.

Chills ran down her back before she reflexively grabbed a jar of tongue depressors behind her and smashed them on the side of his head. He went down in a yelp, smashing more various glass jars as he met the floor.

“I can help myself,” Miss Six declared, warily and quickly moving around the room to get away from him.

But for a man of his stature, Mick lunged up incredibly quick, glass still tinkling off his body, as he hooked his arm around her waist and lifted her up, almost as if to shotput her in the air, but she did good as she drove her elbow into the crook of his neck, bringing him down.

She quickly stumbled to her feet but realized he was still in her way. There was no way out except to fight this monster. Mick twisted his neck a few times before glaring at her again. He dove over the medical chair, to which she grasped an IV stand and whipped him across the head, almost hitting him in the eyes with the plastic IV tubes. He stumbled backwards and came back into focus momentarily before Miss Six kicked him with all her might in the chest. Mick flew back into the jukebox, jarring the box into playing Chubby Checker’s “The Twist.” Instead of flying into rage, Mick warned her as calm as he could.

“Stand down, Missy.”

“Or what?” she yelled defiantly over the blaring music, catching her breath as she swiped away sweat from her face.

Mick growled and made a jump for her over the chair, only for her to duck and roll underneath to the other side. As he stood up, she threw the IV stand into his face, the base cracking his freshly mended nose.

Faster than he seems, Mick grabs the IV stand and yanks it, Miss Six tumbling forward with him as he picked her up like a rag doll and slammed her against the wall. Stars flashed in her eyes as she felt him knock the wind out of her and he kept slamming her against the wall like a petulant child trying to destroy their toy.

Her breath shot out of her lungs every time he threw her against the wall, stars dancing more and more into her eyes. Medical utensils and charts were shaking off the shelves and walls as she finally got her fingers under her biceps and pinched _hard_ and twisted. Mick quickly dropped her with a screech that made her skin crawl.

She crawled between his legs, knocking her shoulders into his crotch as she did so. Mick quickly gripped his nether regions as Miss Six stood up straight, making her way to the door as fast as she can.

“Okay, then,” Mick rumbled over the music, composing himself.

“What?” she gasped as she glanced back to look at him.

She stupidly watched him put his fists up instead of running to the door.

“C’mon, Snake. Let’s rattle.”

––––––

Leonard sat on top of a crate, one leg hiked up, the other resting lazily against the floor, while leaning back against the wall. He listened to Lisa prattle on about how well she drove and how they have possibly made the best time out of all their heists. He listened passively, wondering what Miss Six doing in the other room.

He wondered how her face looked after Lisa fixed it up.

He wondered if she’s pacing around the room, like a caged tiger, trying to find a way to get out.

He thought how she’d react if he went to the medial wing and walked in.

He thought about how her face would feel like in his hands, fingers caressing her soft cheek –

“You’re not even listening to me, are you?”

Leonard snapped out of it, blinking blearily.

“Sorry, what?”

Lisa smirked at him.

“What was the last thing I said?” Lisa asked, crossing her arms.

It was a never a good sign when she crossed her arms.

“Uh, you were talking about what good time we made getting out of the heist.”

“And?”

“Uhh…”

“Ah, you’re thinking about our Leading Lady, aren’t you?” she teased, anger subsiding a bit.

Leonard looked away from Lisa to hide his smile.

“Shut up.”

“Jerk,” she fired back.

“Train wreck.”

Lisa dumped the bag of loot on a table; stacks of cash, jewelry and gold and silver ingots tumbled out. She began sorting and stacking up the loot to divvy up later in the night.

“I see what you see in her, by the way.”

Leonard looked at her, ignoring what she said, and jumped down from his perch, helping his sister sort the loot. Might as well do something to keep himself busy.

“What are you gonna do with her, Lenny?”

He knew she was going to ask him that. It was a question he was hoping to avoid as long as possible but knew it was a necessary question.

“I don’t know.”

Lisa glanced at him.

“You don’t know? That’s the first time you answered a question like that.”

He said nothing.

“Well, how long do you intend on keeping her here?”

“I don’t know.”

Lisa sighed impatiently.

“Do you know anything? I know you didn’t need to take her with you. I know you just saw someone shiny and decided to grab her. You can’t steal a girl, Lenny.”

She was right.

“I didn’t need to take her with me,” he admitted. “But I just wanted her with me. Something about her...”

Lisa watched her brother as he tried to verbalize it.

“Everyone always keeps their heads down when we come in. But she looked right at me, like she wasn’t scared. There was just something about her when she looked at me.”

“And?”

He spoke slowly, as if to measure his words.

“I don’t know. I feel like I’ve seen her before.”

Lisa held her gaze her at her brother for a little longer before looking back down at the loot. Nothing but the sound of clinking metal and soft cash getting stacked for a while.

“I want to keep her here with us for a while,” Leonard thought after a moment. “At least until news surrounding the heist dies down.”

“That won’t be long,” Lisa said, pursing her lips. “Promise me that’s when you’ll let her go home. Leonard, look at me” – she stopped until he looked up – “promise me you will let her go home after the news stops covering the heist.”

Leonard said nothing.

“She’s a human being, not a pet.”

“I promise.”

She regarded him sternly before they continued sorting through the loot in silence.

“How’s her face look?” Leonard said after a moment.

“A lot better. It was mostly the blood that made it look worse than it was. A little swollen, but she’ll be fine. The wound will heal fine.”

He didn’t say anything but he was pleased. He’s pissed enough at Mick for punching ; he’d be livid if his fist ruined that pretty face.

“Why did she say her name was Six?”

A smile cracked his face. She wasn’t hers to call his, but he couldn’t help but think, “my clever girl.”

“She’s counting how many times I call her pet names.”

“No wonder you like her. A girl that’s already onto your shit. That’s a rarity.”

“She won’t tell me her name,” Leonard said, amused.

“Did you ask?”

Leonard looked at her, eyes shining mischievously.

“Do you really think a girl that just got kidnapped, got punched in the face by one of her captors _and then_ proceeded to wreck his face will––”

Loud noises of fighting, yelling, and things breaking destroyed the calm ambiance as Leonard and Lisa shot up to their feet, guns at the ready.

“–– tell me her name?”

The pair ran out of the room to figure out where the source of the chaos was. They soon realized it wasn’t the cops or anyone else infiltrating the warehouse once they heard more smashing coming from the medical room with Chubby Checker’s “The Twist” blasting.

They arrived just in time to watch Mick charging at Miss Six, right as she slammed a glass cabinet door into him and pushed the cabinet onto Mick. Miss Six gasped for breath, staggering back against the counter as Mick pushed the cabinet off himself and stood up, brushing off the broken glass and debris, breathing hard while trying to come to. The two of them were completely unaware of Lisa and Leonard at the door.

Lisa watched her wide-eyed with a small growing smile playing on her lips. Leonard glanced at her, the same smirk forming on his face.

_Kitten’s got claws._

Mick charged towards her with a roar. Lisa darted pasted Miss Six and hooked her arm into his cocked back right hook. She was much stronger than she looked as she dragged him backwards.

“C’mon, Honey,” she crooned, stroking Mick soothingly on the shoulder. “Let’s go calm down, come with me…”

Almost oddly baby talking, Mick’s breathing slowed from erratic and ragged to calm and steady, angry eyes boring into Miss Six’s head like lasers as Lisa dragged him out of the medical room. Leonard and Miss Six were left together in the wreckage of the medical room. Miss Six continued to catch her breath, still in fighting stance. He frowned as turned off the music and he appraised the room, but also nodding in approval as he looked at her with an eyebrow raised.

“Good for you.”

It sounded sarcastic, but he really meant it. Miss Six seemed to have caught it as she – for whatever reason – started a rambling apology.

“I’m sorry about the mess,” she gasped, looking around the room.

“Don’t apologize––”

“He just came in here, ready to hurt me––”

“Well, definitely don’t apologize,” Leonard said, incredulously.

Miss Six stopped talking, still breathing hard.

There was a horrible sick feeling brewing inside Leonard as he looked at her. The ponytail she pulled her hair in was crooked, tufts sticking out. Fresh blood was spattered on her white shirt; shining over the dried blood from the car like red stars. Her leather jacket was damaged.

The sick feeling felt hot in his chest and heavy in his stomach. His pulse quickened and heart thudded. He was getting pissed.

_Mick, you fucking idiot, I told you to stay away from her._

“Please let me go,” she said quietly.

Leonard took a quiet breath.

“You know I can’t do that right now. Not until things calm down.”

She felt the lump in her throat and moistness in her eyes and blinked quickly.

“Please. Please let me go. I won’t go to the cops; I won’t tell anyone. He’s just gonna keep trying to hurt me––”

Leonard grabbed her wrist and pulled her out of the medical room. He marched over to where Lisa and Mick was. Lisa continued to try and soothe him but Leonard harshly pushed her away, ignoring her protests.

“That was unnecessary,” he growled.

Mick slowly looked up, fire in his eyes.

“I’m sorry, what?” he hissed sarcastically. “I didn’t hear you the first time. Say it again?”

“We made an agreement with The Flash, _Mick,_ ” he said, spitting his name out with disgust. “We don’t hurt the innocent.”

“ _Ah,_ there we go,” Mick boomed. “Too bad Speedy only said _kill,_ not hurt.”

Leonard glared at and spoke low, voice reverberating and threatening.

“You don’t touch her.”

“Why?” he growled, glaring at Leonard. “Why do you care about this bitch? She’s just the same as the others.”

Leonard allowed his tirade to run. He looked up to the ceiling, taking a deep breath to stay calm. When it was silent, he looked back at Mick, saying nothing.

Mick growled, coming to realize that he has not been heard. Leonard could see his fury was burning out; he was exhausted. He gave Leonard a real stiff look before approaching Miss Six, staring her down.

Mick looked at her and then walked past the two to stand in front of Miss Six. Her fists clenched as he approached. Leonard’s hand rested on his gun; his eyes shifted to Lisa and her right hand was behind her back, no doubt ready as well.

Mick grunted before walking away from her as she watched him warily. A door slammed in the distance.

“Thank you, Mick,” Leonard said amicably, as he walked away. “Now, let’s all do our best to make Miss Six feel at home.”

“And how long would that be?” she asked angrily, still heaving from her exertions with Mick.

“Until the hype about the heist is over.”

“That could be weeks.”

“Then it’ll be weeks.”

Everyone remained silent.

“Any objections?” Leonard asked.

His cold gun hummed brightly, as if waiting for someone to dissent.

Lisa shrugged, expression unreadable. Leonard smiled and put the cold gun down.

“Wonderful. Lisa, can you please show Miss Six her quarters?”

–––––––

The room was nice. Smelled great. Nice overhead lamp with soft lighting. Large bed. Soft, clean, fragrant blue sheets. A small bedside table. A makeshift wall with slits in them; looks like it could slide open to reveal a TV. A small desk sat in the corner with a glass of water and a full pitcher of more ice water. A lovely small digital clock hung above it; helpful, due to the lack of windows.

A smaller room led to a bathroom with a stand up shower and sink. How they got the plumbing and electricity rigged up like this in a warehouse, she will never know, but it was all clean, perfectly safe. And the water was piping hot too.

She caught a glance at herself in the body sized mirror and the sight of her just was just upsetting. Purple shadows lingered under her eyes, the right eye slightly smaller than the left from the swelling. Her lips were dry and chapped; she grabbed the glass of water and chugged desperately to quench her thirst. She truly balked when she saw her shirt.

Blood spattered across her white shirt like a careless wing of a paintbrush; definitely a mix of her and Mick’s blood. The left elbow of her leather jacket was peeling horrendously while the seams of the right shoulder ripped, threatening to pull the sleeve off.

 _My best friend bought me this jacket,_ she thought forlornly while shrugging off the jacket.

Miss Six flopped onto the bed without changing, mentally and emotional exhausted from the day. It will be impossible for her to try to escape but she still has to try. She looked at the dresser and noticed a notepad with a pencil. She drew one short line, beginning a tally of how many days she’s been here.

_I have to try._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After seeing Lisa for the first time in The Flash, I always had a headcanon that she was also the medic for Leonard and Mick.


	4. Routine

Four days pass and Miss Six came up with a bit of a routine. She would wake up and look in the mirror to make sure her stitches are fine. The first morning, her cheek bled onto the pillow with an aching throb in her head and her back was a vast map of black and blue from Mick throwing her into the wall with all his might. But today, the swelling was greatly reduced around her eye and the bruise was almost gone, save for some mild tenderness. While her back was still stained with nasty dark marks, she no longer felt pain. And she couldn’t help but think that the stitches would leave a pretty badass scar once they get taken out.

Then Miss Six eats the breakfast Lisa gives her after making her daily tally in the pad. Usually the same thing as the first morning; strawberries, pineapple, and mango in a bowl with a small plate of bacon and sausage, with an occasional variation in fruit or the addition of a biscuit. A cup of coffee would be at the side, still hot with steam rise into the air.

While eating, Miss Six would then prowl about the room, attempting to find anything that would help her pick the lock of door but it was impossible. The whole container used for this makeshift room was flush along the edges of the box, no gaps. The legs of the bed were bolted tight shut to the container and was impossible to take apart without tools. Same for each plank of the bookshelf; screwed tight and impossible to remove.

But while running her hands through her hair, she found three bobby pins, tangled in her messy ponytail and found two more that fell out of her hair in the bed. She can use these to pick the locks.

She was never good at lock picking. When her father caught her trying to jimmy the door to his door to take her laptop he confiscated, he swiftly thwacked her in the mouth, an action that became the regular consequence that got more and more severe until she was old enough to defend herself. Her friend James would regularly pick locks for fun––“It calms me down,” he would say, and she would kind of understand––and finally decided to teach her when she broke down in petulant tears one night.

The one problem James would always point out was that she was never patient. Her hurry would never give her the finesse to do the job efficiently, which always led to the breakage of whatever tool she was using.

After angrily assessing the first broken bobby pin, she decided to use only one a day as to not let her impatience break the pins carelessly. But even by the last bobby pin, Miss Six would find herself slumped by the door, forehead resting against the cool metal, fingers red, swollen, and sore from gripping the bobby pin so tightly. Her legs burned from staying in a squatting position for hours. All the pins end up bent, snapped inside the keyhole, or were so bent that when she tried to straighten them out it would still snap apart. Either the door was unpickable or she just sucked at lock picking.

Feeling unsuccessful and deterred, she showers. It was a form of solace for her; while feeling the hot water burn off all the grime and crap off her body, she forgot she was kidnapped by world class thieves in a bank heist. Even now, she was still in disbelief that there was actual clean, hot water coming out of the spout in the makeshift looking bathroom.

While she was relieved that her sensitive and eczema-prone skin wouldn’t suffer when she found some top-of-the-line skincare products and feminine products, generously provided by Lisa, she felt betrayed by her emotions when she felt grateful; an unusual sensation to feel for your captors.

Then Lisa would bring lunch, usually when Miss Six was still in the shower, with a change of clothes and a swap of books from the night before, since there is not much else for Miss Six to do, but today, Miss Six caught noticed Lisa right before she shut the door, the shine of her long, chestnut colored hair dancing out of sight.

She couldn’t help but feel disappointed as she pulled on the new clothes Lisa brought her; a basic white tee and navy-blue sweatpants.

Must be the lack of human communication from the last few days, she concluded while aimlessly looking at what the new book was; something about deadly romance and sad girls. She looked down and noticed a new tray; a Big Belly Burger bag.

_Ugh._

It’s not that she hated fast food; it was one of Miss Six’s favorite things, but her self control was nonexistent with the stress of the last couple of weeks. She was hoping to take the next couple of days off to be good, but it looks like she has no choice. She looked inside. A classic Big Burger cheeseburger with several assorted boxes of sides, inclusive of their fries, extra bacon, and nuggets.

All her favorites.

Miss Six sat down on the bed, holding the bag while morosely biting into the burger. As she chewed, that feeling of disappointment and gloominess grew heavier in her chest as she came to realize that Leonard Snart hadn’t stopped by.

Not once.

––––––

The next day, the fifth day, was sometime after Miss Six finished lunch and was laying on the bed, reading _The Great Gatsby,_ a throwback from high school, when there was a knock on the door.

Odd since she’s never heard a knock ever.

“Come in?” she said tentatively as she sat up further on the bed.

The lock jostled about and the door slid open and she was suddenly the utmost attentive.

Snart.

He smiled at her, stepping over the threshold and sliding the door closed behind him. Out of sheer shock, she couldn’t help but just stare.

“Well, I’m glad to see you’re looking more like your lovely self.”

Chills ran down her back hearing his voice again, a feeling that she could only describe as the physical embodiment of her missing this man.

Realizing her mouth was open this whole time, Miss Six closed it, trying to work some moisture back in before speaking.

“Yeah, thanks to your sister,” she tried to say neutrally as possible.

Snart’s smile widened.

“Lisa _is_ pretty great,” he said with pride.

There was something warming about how proud he was about his sister.

_Remember, not boyfriend material. He kidnapped you._

She noticed he was wearing his giant blue parka, the same one he wore that night they grabbed her from the bank. The goggles hung casually around his neck, the cold gun in his right hand.

“Going somewhere?”

Snart cocked his head to the side, his smiling morphing into something somewhat of a lecherous leer.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Kitten…”

Butterflies danced in her stomach as she did her best to remain as impassive as possible. It worked.

“Just wanted to check-in to see how you’re doin’.”

Miss Six regarded him closely. He’s going out. She had a hunch Lisa and Mick were going with him too, it was a strong hunch.

The whole warehouse was going to be empty.

She needed to play this off quickly, that she was none-the-wiser.

“Another book would be nice.”

“Another?”

“Yeah, I mean… there’s not much else to be doing here.”

Snart looked down for a moment.

“Sure. Another book.”

He came back with two, much thicker tomes; _Dante’s Inferno_ and _War and Peace._

“These should keep you busy for a while.”

“Thanks.”

He took a step towards her, eyes never leaving hers. She took one back herself, shyly looking down with her heart rate raising with every step. She couldn’t help but feel like prey in predatory eyes and as the back of her knees met the bed, she realized just how close he was as he whispered into her ears.

“Wanna show me how thankful you are?”

Chuckling at her face flushing, he hoisted the gun on his shoulder and stepped out. The door slid shut and locked but something didn’t sound right.

Over the last couple days, Miss Six noticed there was always the sound of the bolt scraping against the door twice; this time she only heard once when Snart shut the door. Quickly recovering and dropping the books down on the bed, she pressed her ear to the door, trying to glean some kind of idea of what’s happening outside.

Nothing.

Miss Six stood up and grabbed her boots by the bed and pulled them on, heart racing. She wrapped her hand around the handle of the door and gave it a tug. She felt some type of mechanism jumping unstably in the door, so she kept tugging with all her might until the door finally slid open with a loud bang.

She quickly scrambled out from the room and hid in a dark corner, watching the door in anticipation of them running towards the door to subdue her. Nothing. After twenty minutes of watching, there was some more of nothing. She slowly stood up, confirming that she was now finally alone.

This was her chance.

Miss Six slowly walked towards the door and looked at the twist-knob lock on the sliding door. She twisted it a few times, noticing that the hook did not fully come out to fully lock the room. There was a faint rattling and she gasped; it was the broken bits from her bobby pins jamming the internal lock.

It did something after all.

Hours went by as she wrestled with all the doors in the warehouse, only to find they were all locked in her dismay. She continued exploring the rest of warehouse and found a little makeshift kitchen type area. She was pleasantly surprised to find an unopened bottle of Jameson whiskey and a nice array of Santoku kitchen knives; she grabbed the bottle and the sharpest knife and snuck the both back to the room.

After going through the warehouse one more time, Miss Six sat on top a wooden crate, breathless and even more frustrated and confused than she was a few days ago. So close, but so far.

She couldn’t find where the exit of the warehouse was.

Why couldn’t she see it?

A harsh grinding sound snapped her out of her reverie, coming from the far side of the warehouse. A beam of moonlight broke through before slowly disappearing again. It was the door.

They’re back, but at least she has some idea of where the exit was.

Miss Six immediately jumped off, cursing that she didn’t land as quietly as she hoped. She started bolting back towards the room, crouching and moving as quickly and quietly as she can and hid in the shadows. The crinkle of large sheets of paper––blueprints?––was heard over soft murmurs of talking.

Her ears stung and heart shook when she heard a panicked roar in the near distance.

“HER DOOR IS OPENED!”

_Fuck._

It was Mick.

“What the f–SHE’S NOT IN HERE!”

_Shit._

Miss Six made haste and moved the other way as quickly as she could but it was too late; Mick had already spotted her as she tried to crawl past a gap to get behind another crate. They both stared at each other, like deer in headlights, when she realized she was caught.

She got distracted by the way he looked at her; there was none of that hateful anger she came to associate with him. It was nothing but pure shock, and something with the way that his fiery eyes glancing about her face just felt innocent. His face was no longer swollen but still bruised, with the white strip still across his nose. He looked better, almost handsome but in a very battered, rugged way.

Then they both blinked and it was as if the spell was broken.

His brows furrowed and he barreled towards Miss Six like a ram. For a man his size, he was fast. She steeled herself and stood her ground.

“The last thing you wanna do is put your hands on me!” she shrieked.

He skidded to a halt, the heat gun trained on her. She immediately put her hands up.

“How did you get out?” he growled.

She had no answer.

“ _How?!”_ he bellowed.

Miss Six cowered a bit, head bowing down a little, still saying nothing. The flame at the end of his gun seemed to flicker menacingly at her.

“Tell me how. No one’s ever gotten out before.”

“Maybe they just never tried,” she snapped.

His eyes widened. Her heart sunk, cursing herself for her mouth.

Miss Six’s thoughts inappropriately flickered to that online image of the 911 transcript on the news, where a man got stabbed after he said, “What are you gonna do, stab me?”

She couldn’t help but feel this was somehow applicable.

Running footsteps echoed as Mick’s head snapped around to find Lisa sliding to a stop behind him, her own gun in her firm grip. His eyes darkened while staring at her.

“You were the last one to lock her door.”

“Oh c’mon, you really wanna blame me, Mick?” Lisa said exasperatedly.

“Shut up, the both of you.”

Miss Six couldn’t help but feel relief wash over her. It was as if clouds parted to a clear sky, the atmosphere quieting after the howl of a loud wind. Her ears immediately attuned to his calm, calculated footsteps. He stopped some distance behind Lisa.

All three of them immediately looked at Snart.

He looked as attractive as he did earlier in the day and that lazy lean to the back of his leg just completed it for her. His eyes focused on Miss Six almost immediately, a flirtatious grin dancing on his lips.

“Hello, Miss Six,” he hummed warmly.

She felt herself nervously gulping.

“I was the last one in Miss Six’s room. And I made sure it was locked. Now, I understand the concern that we don’t want our Leading Lady running around but she got out of her room on her own, fair and square.”

“I forgot we had that rule,” Mick rumbled.

“Of course you did,” Lisa said bitingly, ignoring his scowl.

“What rule?” Miss Six asked softly but firmly.

Mick looked down with the anger simmering inside him. Lisa’s brow furrowed, almost worried. She glanced at Snart. Miss Six watched him bite back a laugh.

“Is there no honor amongst thieves now?” he said sarcastically, walking towards her. “As I’m sure you’re aware, Miss, we tend to take someone with us as… insurance on our jobs–I mean, you have to understand that insurance is a must, right?”

Miss Six couldn’t help but balk listening to him speak so casually about taking hostages during armed robberies as if he why having benefits for a nine–to–five was necessary. He came to kneel in front of her.

“Now, it’s agreed among us,” he continued, kneeling in front of Miss Six now, “that if our guest––”

“Can you just call it what it is?” Miss Six snapped. “I’m not your _guest,_ I’m just a really pampered hostage.”

Snart raised cocked an eyebrow in delight.

“-… If our… _hostage,_ ” Snart continued coolly, “can figure out a way to break out of their room, then they break out of their room.”

Miss Six simply stared at him, trying to see if there was a double meaning behind his words. Her eyes subtly shifted to Lisa, almost as if to ask her, “Is he telling the truth?”

Lisa locked eyes with her and, after a moment’s hesitation, she nodded once. Miss Six took a breath, trying to keep calm, and slowly looked back at Snart, who noticed nothing of the elusive exchange.

 “Now that’s not to say you have free reign, Miss Six,” Snart continued. “But if you get in any part of our lovely little home, then you got in fair and square. It’s pretty clear locks aren’t gonna stop you.”

“I don’t want to get into any other room in your house,” Miss Six said, almost sounding like she’s whining. “I just want to go home.”

“You’ll get out––”

“––when you let me out. Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

 “That’s right.”

He started to lean into her while still smiling alluringly and he got so close, Miss Six could swear he heard her hold her breath.

“But if you can get out,” he hummed with carnal excitement, “then you can get out.”


	5. Recreation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Drugs and alcohol usage.

Lisa sat on the floor cross-legged, deftly rolling up a fat joint with her Xbox controller balanced precariously on her thigh. Some crumbs from the joint fell off the paper onto the hem of her shorts but she ignored it. She took a quick glance at the TV to see the status of the _Halo_ loading screen while licking the sticky strip of the paper, ignoring the buzz of the headset around her neck.

The only reason Leonard tolerates her dating Cisco is that he did a great job helping her set up the rig of the warehouse. He completely outfitted the place with all the tech they’ll ever need, most useful being the scramblers placed along the perimeter to mask all signs of movement and transmissions should cops decide to drive by and the state-of-the-art comms system. That was all under threat, but of course, he willingly did the best work for Lisa’s quarters with an awesome gaming rig and a custom cocktail dispenser.

 _Thanks again, Babe,_ she thought happily as she sparked up the joint.

“You smoke too much of that crap, it’ll rot your brain.”

She looked up as she exhaled a plume of smoke.

“You look helluva lot better, Mick.”

His face softened, a hint of a smile ghosting his face. The bruises were all gone, save for a very faint purple ring around his right eye. The white strip was still across his nose to keep the cartilage intact per Lisa’s very strict instructions.

“Thanks to you, Hun,” he said as warmly as he could muster while looking down.

Lisa took another pull of the joint and offered it to Mick.

He regarded it for a moment and took it from her, taking a puff as he sat down. He made his usual mistake of taking too big a drag, forgetting it wasn’t a cigarette, and ended up a coughing, spluttering mess. Lisa giggled while clapping him on the back, a pleasant fuzziness enveloping her minds.

It was hitting her nicely.

“Jesus, Mick,” Lisa exclaimed while handing him some water. “It’s like your first time every time.”

“I only like it ‘cause it makes food taste better,” he growled angrily after desperately gulping down some water.

“’Course it does.”

They sat together in relaxed silence, sharing the joint. Once the match booted up, Lisa became engrossed, Mick watching her play while he focused on taking smaller, gentler puffs. The haze came about his mind as well, his tension dissipating quickly.

“So,” Lisa said as the round came to a close. “Wanna make bets of how long it takes for her to find the door and break outta here?”

Mick grunted.

“I could give less of a shit, Lisa.”

“What, still mad she completely wrecked you?”

“Don’t go there.”

“Why? ‘Cause it ended well for you the last time you tried to fuck her up?”

Mick said nothing and just took another pull. Lisa poured herself a Jack and ginger from her mini fridge, trying to keep the impending giggles at bay.

“I don’t know why we just can’t let her go.”

They heard a soft patter of feet and looked to the door and saw a flash of jet black hair as Miss Six walked by. It’s the first glimpse of her that Lisa saw since a couple of days ago when she broke out of her locked room.

His cheeks flushed furiously like airplane beacons.

“Whoa, Micky, I saw that,” Lisa teased.

“Don’t call me that,” he snapped.

“I just saw the big, bad, Mick Rory, blushin’ from crushin’ on a girl.”

“No, I didn’t,” he snarled, taking an angry sip. The ruddy complexion continued to blossom.

“Hey, I don’t blame you,” Lisa chuckled, “I’d be extra turned on if a hot girl can beat the hell outta me too––”

With a growl, he harrumphed out the room declaring he was going to watch TV, Lisa cackling relentlessly as she lit up another joint and continued on with her video game, once again completely absorbed, until she heard a gentle knock on the door. Her head snapped up. Lisa cocked her head to the side, a friendly smile dashing her lips.

“Hey, girl!”

Miss Six still stood by the door, hesitant. Lisa took another puff of her joint before tapping it in her ash tray.

“Well, are you gonna come in or just stand there?”

If possible, she somehow looked even more shy than she was a couple seconds ago.

“Oh for the love of Christ…”

Lisa stood up to pull her into the room but the head rush from the booze and weed made her see stars. She promptly flopped onto her bed, the cherry of the joint still glowing brightly.

“You alright?” Miss Six asked, finally stepping inside.

“Yeah, just a little lightheaded,” Lisa said, giddily.

Miss Six smiled a little sheepishly, rubbing her arm a little awkwardly.

“You… partake?”

Her smile widened and graciously took the joint, taking a hefty pull.

“I was wondering when you’d ask.”

Lisa couldn’t help but think how beautiful this girl was now that all the bruises and swelling has dissipated. The discoloration was now completely gone and the scar tissue had formed for the stitches; they look about right to take out in the next couple of days.

They both sat down, smoking quietly while watching the screen. Lisa poured her a drink.

“How’d you know I wasn’t gonna come in here to knock you out and ransack your room to find something that would help me escape this place?”

Lisa blew out another cloud of smoke with an amused smile.

“If you were, you sure as hell ain’t gonna do it after a few hits in you.”

Miss Six scoffed, trying to hide a wry smile. Lisa now noticed her eyes were very, very low.

“Also, Mick and Len are here and sober,” Lisa mildly slurred after a swig of her drink, “and I don’t think you’re stupid enough to try anything.”

Miss Six studied Lisa for a moment before laying on the floor.

“I think I can handle myself well enough against a gorilla of a man to take on someone smaller,” Miss Six said curtly while observing the lit end of the joint. “But I also have a pretty good feeling you’re not gonna let them touch me.”

Lisa paused taking a drink to process her words. She couldn’t help but feel there was something so incredibly familiar about her.

“Well…” she said, slowly. “I don’t think you’re a bad person. You just happened to get thrown into an extraordinary situation under extraordinary circumstances. And I don’t think bad things deserve to happen to you because of that.”

Miss Six regarded her unfocusedly with a dopey smile. Lisa’s coolness evaporated and returned an equally goofy chuckle.

“Thank you for stitching me up,” Miss Six said sincerely.

“Of course,” Lisa hummed. “I think we can take the stitches out in a couple days.”

They sat in silence for another few minutes.

“Want a drink?”

“Whiskey on the rocks, if you have it.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes after clinking glasses.

“You any good?” Miss Six asked, nodding at the video game screen.

Lisa looked at her with a fuzzy smirk as Miss Six regarded her with equally narrow eyes.

“Are you?” Lisa countered, handing her a controller.

––––––

They both like weed. They both like whiskey. They both like video games. She could see herself being friends with Lisa but too bad the course of their brief friendship will come to an end once she steps foot out of the warehouse door.

They kept true to their word. Miss Six was free to come in and out of her room as she pleases but the newfound freedom was odd. She’ll let herself wander out of her room to bring the food trays back to the kitchen and clean the dishes. A mundane activity in a very unexpected setting but it gave her a sense of normalcy.

Or like right now, in her intoxicated state. It’s been a little over a week and this was the most normal she’s felt since being here.

Then, if she’s feeling too cooped up in her room, she’ll take her book and climb on top a stack of crates to read, finally getting some sunlight come in through the windows high up in the wall. She’d find some form of peace in her elevated haven until she felt eyes on her, which was usually either Mick watching her without expression while swigging a beer from across the kitchen area or Leonard making his presence known while polishing his cold gun from some point of the warehouse where he could make eyes at her.

Both situations just made her face feel as red as a traffic stoplight so she runs back into her room, taking furtive sips from the bottle of Jameson she took. She had considered knocking on Lisa’s door but couldn’t muster up the courage to do so.

Until today.

They had fallen into exhausted chortles after winning the last multiplayer match by a close hair. Lisa keeled over with a hiccupping laugh while Miss Six leaned backwards against the end of her bed, face towards the ceiling in breathless laughter. Her world felt wavy from the weed and booze and she just relished in it.

 “That was awesome,” Lisa said, catching her breath.

“We should compete in tournaments, Miss Six chuckled.

_Oh, shit._

Suddenly, the smiles dropped from both their faces as they realized what it meant in their hazy intoxication; it’s something you say to someone you expect to see again.

In an attempt to fill the silence, Miss Six grabbed the water pitcher nearby, only to find it’s empty.

“No water,” Lisa said blearily, already forgotten about the awkward moment.

“Empty,” Miss Six agreed, foggily.

They both stared at the jug for another moment before going towards the kitchen for more, Miss Six trailing a bit behind Lisa. It was weird walking around the rest of the warehouse, stoned to high heaven. Dark corners were almost pitch black and beams of overhanging lights were especially bright. Things felt more enhanced. Lights were brighter, sound was louder, but movements and reactions were slower, and thoughts were in another world. The booze made her feel slow and top–heavy.

A little further down was a space walled off a bit to make a living room. The TV was on and Mick sat in an out–of–place arm chair with a beer, watching. As she was willing herself to not look at him, a crystalline voice cut through Miss Six’s thoughts.

“How’s it goin’, ladies?”

Her pulse quickened at the sound of Snart’s voice. As they approached the kitchen, she saw him at the table, his feet up on one of the kitchen table chairs, a book in his hand, and a glass of whiskey and a pack of Twizzlers keeping him company.

“Hey, Lenny,” Lisa said whimsically while taking the pitcher from Miss Six.

He cocked his head.

“Are you two stoned?”

“And drunk,” Miss Six blurted out.

He smirked but before he could speak, Lisa cursed out loud after looking at the clock.

“What is it?” Snart asked.

“I’m late for my date with Cisco,” she said, suddenly seeming sober as she made her epiphany.

_Uh oh._

As Lisa darted back towards her room, Miss Six stood awkwardly in the kitchen, doing everything avoid making eye contact. Very aware he was watching her, she tried to put the water jug in the sink as naturally as possible and go back to her room.

“Where you goin’, Miss Six?” Snart said airily.

“Uh,” Miss Six stammered, caught off guard. “Back to my room, I guess.”

Snart narrowed his eyes, mischievously.

“Being alone while cross faded is not fun.”

“I guess you have to have a certain level of self-love to enjoy time by yourself,” she slurred.

His smirk widened at her subtle jab.

“As true as that may be, I _do_ so enjoy the rare moments of your presence.”

“You can’t make me,” she said, feeling like a child. “Can’t make me do anything without that damn gun by your side.”

Leonard pursed his lips.

“You’re a feisty one, Darling.”

“Don’t call me that,” Miss Six snapped, quelling the tremor in her heart.

His eyes seemed to twinkle.

Lisa rushed back out, now out of her t–shirt and in a lovely gold dress that clung flatteringly to her.

“Wow, you look great!” Miss Six exclaimed genuinely, briefly forgetting about the flirtatious verbal fencing with Snart.

“Thanks!” Lisa beamed as Leonard’s eyes darkened.

“I know I said I wouldn’t give you any grief––”

“So don’t give me any grief, Lenny.”

He opened his mouth to speak but just looked down and smiled.

“Have a wonderful evening, Lisa.”

“Thank you, Leonard, she hummed before turning back to Miss Six. “You’ll be okay by yourself. Promise.”

“Miss Six decided to give me the pleasure of her company.”

Lisa raised her eyebrows.

“Did she, now?”

Suddenly lost her ability to have a snappy comeback, Miss Six sullenly nodded.

Snart inhaled in triumph and lifted his chin.

“Okay, then,” Lisa said hesitantly. “I’ll be back later. Don’t wait up.”

Miss Six watched her leave and couldn’t help but feel lost. In contrast, Snart looked quite comfortable as he quietly bookmarked his place in his book and stood up to pull the other chair out for Miss Six. She stared at it quizzically.

“It’s rude to not pull out a chair for a lady,” he said, gallantly.

“That kind of thinking’s a bit antiquated, don’t you think?” she muttered. “I can pull my own chair out.”

“I never said you couldn’t.”

She sighed and sat down. He stepped away to take out a whiskey glass from the cabinet. The ice clinked gently in the glass as he dropped two cubes in. He traipsed back to the table and put the glass down before her. Her cheeks glowed white hot as her eyes flickered upwards to look at Snart elegantly pouring her drink.

“Didn’t take you to have a liking for whiskey,” he commented, sitting back into his seat.

“Did you take me for a wine lover?” she asked as she immediately consumed the drink of whiskey in one gulp.

She felt clumsy as she set her glass down. It was a warning from her body; _slow down._

“I don’t know _what_ you are, Sugar Lips.”

“Seven.”

“You gonna keep that up the whole time?” he said with narrowed eyes.

“You betcha.”

Snart chuckled, picking up the whiskey bottle only to find there were only enough left for one drink. He frowned.

“Well, this is an unfortunate way to start a first date.”

Miss Six’s heart jumped.

“This isn’t a date,” she mumbled, twisting a piece of her hair.

“Isn’t it?”

She sighed and blushed again.

“I’m sorry, am I making you uncomfortable?” he asked, sounding more serious.

“I’m just not very good with the whole flirting thing,” she found herself explaining.

Miss Six heard the creaking of what sounded like furniture and looked up to see Snart leaning back in his chair. In her blurriness, she saw his smile. Something about it seemed genuine and not the predatory flirtatious smirk she has grown accustomed to in the last few days.

“So you’re trying.”

“Trying…?”

“To flirt with me.”

Her cheeks grew rosy again.

“No.”

“Well, either way,” he chuckled. “I think you’re better at it than you give yourself credit for.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

They sat together, silent for a moment, before Miss Six stood up. The head rush came so strongly she gripped the edges of the table to steady herself.

“Bathroom?” Snart asked quizzically, with his arm out in case she needed the extra support.

“No, I just remembered something,” Miss Six murmured, rushing away as soon as she felt stable enough.

As quickly as she can she walked through the dark warehouse back to her room, her hand floundering under the bed until her fingertips found the bottle of Jameson she stole the other day. Still had a little more than two–thirds left. Snart, elatedly, as she walked back in it, gripping the neck tight in her hand.

“I knew you were just one of us,” he stated as he took the bottle away from her.

Miss Six sat down as he went to get fresh glasses with fresh ice.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, rubbing her temple gently; the high from Lisa’s weed was starting to go away.

“You don’t need to,” Snart said, cryptically.

Miss Six said nothing as she watched him pour the Jameson. They raised the glasses and bumped them, his pinky grazing her index finger. She missed this taste of sweet oakiness.

“So, as I was saying,” Snart said, smiling a little too familiarly at her. “Our first date.”

“Not so much of a first date, Snart––”

“Please. Call me Leonard.”

“––Leonard. It doesn’t count if I’m your hostage.”

“Ah, so you _would_ entertain the idea if you weren’t my hostage.”

“Nice to see you’re finally using my words,” Miss Six slurred while taking another gulp of her drink. “And no, any idea of us dating is gone the moment you decided to kidnap me from the bank.”

There was a pause.

“What if I never kidnapped you, but grabbed you, put a gun to your head ‘cause, you know, Mexican standoff with cops, and slip a piece of paper in your pocket with my number on it; would you have called me?”

She stared at Leonard, incredulously, before spluttering, “Is your last name Snart ‘cause you’re a combination of snarky remarks and smart ass comebacks?”

He just laughed, heartily.

“Good one.”


	6. Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience while I got this chapter together. I'm also working on something of a music project for this story too. What do you guys think about a soundtrack type playlist for this story? I would love to start putting some more effort into it if this is something you're interested in. Let me know what you think in the comments below.

The eggs sizzled cheerily in one pan while bacon and sausage patties fried up in another. The biscuits rose nicely in the oven. After setting all the former aside, he poured his signature pancake batter––the secret was a shot of bourbon mixed in with some cinnamon––into the hot pan for the final touch. He then placed all the hot food on separate plates and began setting the table.

Although he always hated doing domestic stuff like this, he minded a lot less when it’s for Lisa and always did it the next morning whenever Lisa stayed out late. When the texts start getting sporadic, and then unintelligible after a certain hour, it was telltale that she was going to be very drunk for the rest of the night. But Lisa always made it home safe. After both Mick and Leonard threatened the poor soul of out of him, Cisco made damn sure he was the one bringing her back to the warehouse every time.

As if on cue, Lisa stumbled out, supremely disoriented, and sat gingerly at the table.

“Ha!”

“Please,” Lisa rasped. “No loud noises.”

“Rough night?” he bantered, handing her a strong mimosa.

“Great night, but horrible morning,” she moaned. “Ugh, please, no more alcohol.”

“It’s orange juice and champagne,” Mick coaxed. “Vitamins to fill you back up and a little bit of booze to help the hangover.”

She groaned and grabbed the glass savagely and took it in one gulp.

“Another, please.”                            

“Of course, Princess.”

“I like it when you call me that, Mick.”

He glanced over his towel–covered shoulder with a smile. Even with three hours of sleep, no shower, hair awry, eye makeup smeared, and still _completely_ reeking of booze, she’s still so beautiful. His heart swelled lovingly for her as he built her a massive plate of greasy eggs, bacon, and pancakes with a side biscuit. There was a warmness in her that, in turn, nourished him to want try a little harder.

“I don’t think I can stomach this.”

“You’re gonna have to if you wanna start feeling better,” Mick said flatly while popping a beer open. “Especially if we’re still doing cards later.”

“It’s what, ten in the morning, and you’re drinking?”

“As man has said time and time before, it’s 5PM somewhere,” he said with a swig.

Lisa groaned, grabbed a fork and started eating. Between small mouthfuls, she continued sipping her second mimosa carefully while massaging her temple.

“Better?”

Lisa skewered another piece of eggy sausage into her mouth, nodding.

“You don’t have to make hangover breakfast for me every time I go out, you know,” Lisa mumbled between mouthfuls.

“I don’t mind doing it for you.”

Lisa looked at him with a dazed, but happy smile.

“Tell me about your night, Leese.”

In halting moments while trying to recall as much of the night as possible, Lisa recounted her date with Cisco, starting at one of the highest rated restaurants in Central City where he wine–and–dine’d her, progressing to a romantic stroll in the park, before ending up at a club with Barry Allen and Caitlin Snow.

“It was very blurry after that,” Lisa laughed as Mick poured her more orange juice. “They sure as hell were shocked to see me and I don’t remember what happened exactly but it was just so much fun. How was the night here?”

A dark, gripping sensation took his heart as he remembered last night.

––––––

Mick had watched them from his corner of the living room, watching TV, while Leonard and Miss Six were in the kitchen, drinking after Lisa left. It was obvious she was making a point to avoid all eye–contact with him as she went back to her room to get the bottle of Jameson she stole the night she broke out. Even from his distance, Mick could see her eye was still faintly bruised and Lisa needed to take out those stitches. But she was quickly looking more and more like her lovely self every day.

One question continued to plague his consciousness; why did he decide to punch her in the car that day? Or go into the medical bay and try to hurt her some more? His heart sunk to his stomach with grave disappointment. He knows he won’t know why for a very long time––maybe he won’t know for the rest of his life––but punching Miss Six in the car would be one of the things that he would regret that forever.

Mick couldn’t stop thinking about it but felt the monster inside him growl as he watched Leonard leaned forward, his head resting on his fist to look at her. He’s never seen him so affected by a Leading Lady. He hated how captivated he was by her and while she kept Leonard at an arm’s length, he could tell she was enamored by him. Most women are not immune to Leonard Snart’s charm, and this one was no more special than the rest, though she did a better job at hiding it than most.

While he was jealous that Leonard had the privilege to be in her presence, Mick knew they cannot get attached to her, and Leonard should know better. Ironic, since he likes to talk about how much of a professional he is but, meanwhile, he’s falling for the hostage. Either way, it’ll be a matter of time before they let her go soon or she finds the door and breaks out on her own. In fact, the latter seems much more likely than the former. When she finally figured out a way to break out of her room, the sheer focus and determination he saw in her to try to escape was nothing short of heroic. She’s all but taken an axe to the wall.

He swigged his beer and kept watching them, his TV show completely forgotten, but if he was being honest, he mainly watched her. He hated that Lisa was right. Maybe it was how she slightly looks up from her lashes when he sees her reading during the day. Maybe it was the way she flipped her ponytail whenever she tied it back. Maybe it was how her eyebrows crease into an angry V when she’s ready to fight.

Maybe it was something about the way she threw her head back to finish her drink. Neither Leonard nor Mick did not miss the minute detail of the little dribble of water-ice-whiskey fall from the corner of her mouth, slowly snaking down her chin and down her neck, almost as if caressing her. Mick blinked when she brushed it away, watching her fingers drag seductively down her neck, subtly pulling the loose t-shirt a bit.

He took a sharp intake of breath as he watched a flash of scarrish tissue as she pulled the shirt. It looked like wild scratches in the lower space between her collarbone and arm. Before he could even process the thought of that, she knocked her head back and downed another drink, a little more whiskey running down her chin and neck.

“Wish I could be that little bit of whiskey right now,” Mick heard Leonard say lustfully with a smirk.

Mick suppressed the ire glowing in his chest as he continued watching and listening, eager to hear what she was going to say. She remained impassive for a show of bravery, but was given away by the flush of her cheeks and the quiver of her lower lip.

“What’s wrong, Babe?” Leonard teased, dramatically furrowing his brows, leaning in, and she was leaning in, too, almost as if mesmerized by his voice. “Cat got your tongue?”

Mick’s heart got faster and faster as they got closer and closer, their lips almost touching before he stood up with a roar, startling the two of them as they snapped their heads towards Mick.

“ _I’m going to bed!”_ he angrily bellowed.

As he stormed off, he grumbled under his breath, “Can’t take this lovey-dovey bullshit no more.”

“It’s ‘anymore,’ Mick,” Leonard called out lazily as the door snapped shut.

–––––––

“I’m sure you must’ve been enjoying the view, too,” Lisa chuckled after Mick finished retelling last night’s events. “There’s something you’re not telling me, aren’t you?”

“Fuck, Lisa, how do you always know?” he grumbled.

She grinned, cheekily and he sighed.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about her last night.”

Lisa raised her eyebrows.

“I had to…um… clean the pipes.”

He always hated talking about sexual things with Lisa.

“Wow.”

They sat together for a little while longer as Mick finished his beer.

“I’m sure she must be hungover, too,” Lisa said as she looked at Miss Six’s door.

“What?”

She cocked her head a bit as she looked back at Mick.

“I’m sure she’ll really appreciate it if you brought her some food.”

Mick groaned. He loved Lisa’s more peace keeping side, but hated it at the same time.

“Please, Mick?” Lisa asked again with puppy eyes. “Do it for me, if not for yourself.”

He just stared at her and sighed, defeated, and began fixing together a tray. Lisa got up and kissed him on the cheek for thanks. Mick walked to her door, tray in tow, and knocked on her door. He could hear Miss Six grunt miserably inside.

“It’s Mick,” he called out.

He can already imagine the shock brewing in her mind inside.

“I, um… I’ve brought breakfast.”

 A few moments pass and he decides to go, thinking she won’t show, until he heard her soft footsteps. She peered behind the door as she pulled it open with a clang.

“Hi,” he said tentatively.

“H-hi,” she stuttered.

“You, um… your face looks better.”

As she said nothing and just stared at him with wide eyes, Mick realized how close proximity he was to her, as close as they were since the last time they completely trashed each other in the medical room. He noticed streaks of burgundy and gold in the iris of her eyes. Realizing that he’s just been staring at her in silence, he recomposed himself.

“Um… breakfast? I’m sure you’re hungry and dehydrated.”

Miss Six finally tore her eyes away from his face and took the tray from him.

“Thanks.”

The door quickly slid shut in Mick’s face. As Mick turned to walk back to the kitchen space, he saw Leonard holding a coffee, watching the interaction.

“It’s weird seeing you bringing breakfast for someone that’s not you,” he joked.

Mick scoffed.

“You know we have to let her go soon.”

“I do.”

“You can’t keep playing with her like that.”

“You didn’t care when I played with the others. I didn’t care when you did. The only rule we ever had was that it was consensual.”

“That is _always_ the rule, but clearly this is different.”

“And why is it _different_?” Leonard said, scowling as he emphasized the word. “Why does it _bother_ you so much that I want this one?”

“Why do you want this one so much?”

“Don’t ask questions you clearly don’t want the truth to, Mick.”

Mick continued on to the kitchen, holding his temper.

“Still on for poker tonight?” Leonard called after him.

“If your sister recovers, then yes.”

––––––

She hasn’t felt this hungover in a really long time. Her brain felt like it was echoing around in her skull. This morning, lights were brighter, and sounds were louder, but in a painful, agonizing, migraine type way. As she sat up, she felt a burning, uncomfortable sensation near her right breast. She pulled her shirt and found streaks of bloody scabs, realizing she scratched the hell out of herself in the night. _Shit_. Her eczema’s going to be unforgiving this time around.

Miss Six struggled to pull herself out of bed to pour herself some water; it felt rough and gross going down her throat. As she sat up on the floor, gasping from using her strength to drink, Miss Six struggled to recall the events of last night. She doesn’t remember how much she had with Lisa, and when she finally decided to start counting with Snart, it was too late.

_That’s right._

Drinks with Snart… who she now called Leonard.

She grimaced as more and more flashes of last night coming back to her. He already was flirting at her and–– _oh, fuck_ ––she started flirting back with him, albeit very self-consciously, but he seemed to love that.

_“Mm, I find the shy, nervous game you’re playing_ very _sexy, Kitten,”_ she suddenly remembered him saying.

 Her cheeks fired up as she poured her next glass of water, chugging furiously. She recalled more embarrassing details from last night; he caressed the back her hand as she rested it on the table and oh–so–subtly scooted closer and closer to Miss Six as the night progressed. Mick angrily announcing he was going to bed, which Miss Six thought was odd, didn’t stop Leonard whatsoever.

It was impossible to remember what happened after that, especially with the mind–numbingly loud knock on the door. She exhaled loudly, suddenly wildly alert. She remembered when the only ever person who knocked on the door was Leonard. Miss Six froze, listening, half hoping it was him.

It wasn’t.

Swaying a bit, but more or less forgotten her hangover, Miss Six immediately stood up, heart tattooing loudly in her ears.

“Um… I’ve brought breakfast?” Mick tentatively asked.

Breakfast.

As if almost on cue, she felt her stomach twitch at the thought, begging for food. She hesitantly made her way to the door and pulled the latch slowly. Squinting a bit, the light revealed Mick about to leave, holding a piping hot tray. They exchanged awkward greetings.

“You, um… your face looks a lot better.”

She nervously bit her lip and said nothing as realized she stood close enough to kiss him. She couldn’t help but staring into his eyes until he spoke.

“Um… breakfast?” he said, distracting her. “I’m sure you’re hungry and dehydrated.”

She quickly took the tray from him and grasped the handle of the door and quickly said, “thanks,” before snapping the door shut. The first glass––which Miss Six came to find out was actually not orange juice––of mimosa went quick in a sloppy gulp. It surprised her how much she liked and craved the sweetness, she immediately downed another two glasses. The headache and nausea began to subside and gave way to another pleasant buzz and, soon, she felt the strength to start eating. Once she put the first piece of egg in her mouth, her ravenous hunger took over and the struggle to remember what happened last night was long forgotten.

By the time she was ready to come up for breath, the pitcher of mimosa was empty and the plate was practically licked clean. As her hangover was getting nursed by the mimosa and her hunger was quickly satiated, a soothing type of satisfied exhaustion took over. She quickly used the bathroom, as fast as her sluggish body could take her, and then flopped onto the bed.

–––––

It was a major improvement from a few hours ago, the crippling nausea and headache finally gone. A quick glance at the digital clock showed 7:30 PM in its bright red face, so she sat up, rubbing her eyes and stretching laboriously.

Miss Six’s mouth was horribly parched and she felt a familiar growl in her stomach. Unfortunately, she had already cleared her plate from earlier today and her water pitcher was empty. Miss Six grabbed her tray and pitcher and made her way to the kitchen. She quickly washed the dishes and refilled the water pitcher after taking a long, fresh gulp. Miss Six quickly whipped up two hot dogs and ate quickly standing in the kitchen.

She heard the noises of cards shuffling as she walked back to her room. She followed the sound as close as she can and found Mick, Leonard, and Lisa, the latter looking refreshed and rested, in the living room area. A round dinner table was popped up with matching chairs; the arm chair that Mick sits in and the coffee table he rests his feet on were pushed to the side.

They were playing poker.

Mick quickly shuffled the cards, passed to Leonard to cut, who passed to Lisa to deal. Instead of chips, they used an assortment of loot, from jewelry to gold ingots. Leonard held the largest quantity of the loot, followed by Mick, then Lisa.

Miss Six quietly put down the water pitcher and climbed on one of the higher boxes as quietly as she could but she was sure they were so focused in the game they would not have even noticed. She watched intently up there, trying to spot tells. Her love for gambling, card games, and all things casino came after a trip to Hong Kong to visit her grandmother with her family. Her parents fell asleep early on and, to bond, Miss Six would stay up late playing Chinese Poker and Five-Card-Stud. On the very last night of the trip, she packed her bags and stole away to Macau, where she discovered her love for Texas Hold ‘Em and, then later on, her knack for spotting tells, which always helped her do above average in her games.

From her vantage point, she could clearly see Mick’s hand and, if she were to crane her neck, Lisa’s. After about twenty minutes, she noticed Mick’s. Whenever he’s got a hand with royal pairs, he leans back _ever_ so slightly, his eyebrow briefly jumping up. Lisa tilts her chin up minutely as she puts her cards down if they go well with The Flop.

And then there was Leonard.

Miss Six suddenly got more flashes of last night and had an ambiguous memory of Leonard gripping the tip of her chin with his thumb and index finger. She shook her head to get rid of the thought, once again scolding herself for lusting after the enemy.

It was impossible to see what his tell was. One minute she thought it was the singular tap of his finger on his wrist and then half an hour later, she thought it was his hand running through his short cropped hair.

The man was a chameleon.

Miss Six gave up after watching for an about an hour and seeing Lisa shoot back into first place deemed herself satisfied; however, while climbing down, one of the panels on the bottom crate gave way in a resounding crack.

_Shit._

“What are you doing?”

Miss Six looked up and saw Lisa peering at her quizzically, looking very unhungover. She quickly got her feet on solid ground and stood up straight.

“Sorry. I was watching for a bit but didn’t wanna disturb you guys. Please, get back to your game.”

Lisa smiled comfortingly at her before walking back to her seat. Miss Six picked up the water pitcher and began walking back to her room until an idea sparked in her head. Water all forgotten, she brazenly strode into the living room area. Lisa looked at her wide-eyed, Mick raised an eyebrow at her with a cigar clenched in her teeth, and Leonard just watched her with a ghost of a smirk on his lips.

“I would like to play,” she declared.

Mick and Lisa gawked, incredulous.

“You have nothing to bet, Sweetheart,” Leonard drawled.

“You took my phone.”

“And?”

“It’s an iPhone. 128 gigs. Brand new. just got it two weeks ago. Easily worth a thousand dollars.”

Leonard pursed his lips in thought.

“Okay, what are your terms?”

“If I win this next hand, you let me make a phone call. My friends haven’t heard me for almost a week and a half. They’re worried.”

“C’mon, Miss Six, how stupid do you think we are?” Leonard laughed. “Your phone call’s gonna immediately trigger the tracers they have on you. No phone calls.”

“Then I have new stakes.”

“Do tell.”

“Take my phone as collateral for my buy-in. I get a fair chance to win some of your loot. And if I win it all, you let me go tomorrow, immediately.”

“You’re telling me you don’t want a piece of any of this?” Leonard said saucily.

For once, Miss Six smiled at one of his double entendres.

“I’ll take just enough where I won’t be considered greedy.”

Leonard grinned back mischievously.

“And if you lose, Darling?”

Miss Six took a deep breath.

“You won’t hear me make another sound about wanting to leave. I’ll go when you let me go.”

Leonard glanced at Mick and Lisa before looking down in thought.

“Have a seat, Miss Six,” Leonard said while putting her phone on the table.

Lisa tossed her a stack of cash as she pulled up a chair.

–––––– 

It took a while for her to start strong. Miss Six silently began to curse herself when her thousand dollars started to dwindle down to five hundred, then two fifty. In a swoop of luck, she bet the rest of her two fifty and won with her Pocket Aces and, with the Flop, gave her the strongest two-pair.

Her thousand quickly multiplied to five, then twelve, then to the point where it was easier to start using the jewelry to match the Blind Bets and then when Miss Six made the pieces of jewelry too small of a unit to use, Leonard, Mick, and Lisa were forced to use their gold ingots.

They really had that taken _that_ much from the bank.

Miss Six likes to do this thing where she “accidentally” drops a weak card face up, tricking everyone into thinking she has nothing so they all bet big. Her Four of Spades looked like it just made a measly One Pair with the Turn, but she was truly hiding a Three of a Kind. As she raked in the pot over to her pile, Mick raged and cursed at his loss. With this trick, he was the first to completely bust, but with this trick, Leonard quickly realized why she was familiar.

“They like to call you Lady Luck, don’t they?”

She continued to rake in her winnings, not missing a beat, but her butterflies zoomed about in her stomach hearing that name.

“You must be mistaken,” she lied, stacking up her winnings.

“The illegal gambling dens in Central City. You’re the best. I once saw you win five thousand with nothing but a High Card Eight ‘cause you just _lie_ that well.”

Miss Six bristled at the word and felt a spark of anger in her heart. She knew he used that word because he knew it would get a rise out of her. The triumphant was there in his ice blue eyes; subtle, but still there.

“Deal the cards,” she said steadily.

The gambling dens James and his older brother Jason brought her to never attracted the most wholesome characters and all underground, shady figures from all walks of life and notoriety of Central City congregated at these locales. She should have known there may have been a chance they would have recognized her. And not to mention the fact that she took Mick out so quickly with her unique ability to see tells quickly was a skill not short of famous in these unholy congregations.

Hours pass by as they played. One hand blurred from the next until Miss Six next took out Lisa with a Full House. Lisa sighed, annoyed, and crossed her arms as she stood up and left the table.

“Thought we were friends,” she pouted as she sat next to Mick on the crates.

“Sorry, Lisa,” she chuckled.

“Well, it’s just you and me, Miss Six,” Leonard crooned, his tongue lingering on her name.

Miss Six clenched her fists as she tossed her cards in the middle.

“It’s your turn to shuffle, Leonard.”

He grinned and picked up the cards and began shuffling.

“I do love how my name sounds when you say it.”

She bit back a smirk, cursing herself for being more receptive to his flirting. After he shuffled for another three times, he placed the deck in the middle of the table, and sat back in his seat. Miss Six reached out to cut and deal them and, as if a strike of lightning, Leonard swiftly reached forward, his fingertips dancing up her hand and wrapped gently around her wrist. Miss Six sharply inhaled and dropped the cards, the coolness of his fingertips a shock on her hot skin.

“You know another thing that I just _adore_ about you?” he hummed, sliding his hand down to hold hers while gently massaging her palm.

“Leonard––”

“You _do_ lose, Baby,” he continued purring, leaning in and gazing deep into her eyes. “I’ve seen you lose and when you lose, you get angry, and when you get angry, _ohh,_ you’re just like the perfect snack.”

She slipped her hand out of his gentle grip, working hard to still her racing heart.

“I know what you’re trying to do,” she hissed, snatching the cards away. “It’s not gonna work.”

Leonard smirked and leaned back in his chair, looking accomplished.

“It already did, Doll.”

She tried to ignore him but couldn’t help herself and thought, _Eight._

She cut the cards and quickly dealt, The Flop coming up with a King and two Fives of Hearts and Diamonds. She placed the deck down and, without making eye contact with Leonard, she tossed in three Rolexes as her blind bets in the middle. Leonard followed suit with a pile of one carat diamonds and then slipped his Hole cards in his hands.

Miss Six took a calm measured breath as she revealed Pocket Kings to herself, giving herself and instant House of Kings. Instead of betting, she Checked. Leonard did the same.

She was suddenly very aware Mick and Lisa were watching the both of them like a riveting movie. The very notion of the attention she’s getting was enough to make her shrink in her chair a bit.

She burned a card and flipped the next for the Turn. Queen of Hearts. This was the moment to make her Raise. She shoved a few stacks of bundled hundreds and a bar of her gold ingots into the middle. Leonard reciprocated. Miss Six burned another card and flipped the final one for the Flop. Jack of Hearts.

Even if Leonard had a Flush, her House Kings were no match. To her dismay, however, Leonard pushed the rest of his loot into the middle of the table.

“All in?” Miss Six questioned calmly.

“What’s wrong, got cold feet?” he teased.

Miss Six tipped her head to the side, watching him closely. His eyes were unwavering as he gazed back, looking as relaxed and non–committal as could be. It felt like eternity as they stared at each other. Her eyes fluttered down to his lips, noticing how full and lush they are. She sighed, realizing how shallow her breath staring at his mouth, until she caught a glimpse of the corner of his lips turning up so minutely.

_Don’t. Let him. Get under. Your skin._

“You don’t have it,” she declared and opened up her cards to reveal her House.

The silence was so loud in the atmosphere, and so thick, as she waited for him to move. After a while he looked down and sighed, hands clasped and against his forehead.

 “You played very well, Miss Six.”

Her heart rate increased exponentially with budding excitement until he put his Hole Cards down.

A Pair of Fives, giving him a Four of a Kind.

She felt her world spin away and the lights go dark as she held back tears of disappointment and clenching her fist in anger. She looked up to see Leonard, looking genuinely upset for her.

“But not well enough. I’m sorry.”

“Well,” Miss Six said after clearing her throat. “Fair is fair, right?”

Sniffling slightly, she stood up from her seat and stormed back to her room, slamming the door shut to hide her dejected sobs.

The impervious, expressionless façade dropped from Leonard’s face once he heard her door slam shut. He sighed, regretting that he purposefully got under her skin to distract her. Lisa swiftly jumped down from her stack of boxes and angrily slaps him upside the head.

“Ow, what the fuck, Lisa.”

“You asshole. You didn’t win. You fuckin’ cheated. She beat you, I know she did.”

Leonard said nothing, but just stared at Lisa.

“This was what I really had,” he sighed as he dismally tossed his true cards on the table; all he would’ve had was a Pair of Jacks and a Nine of Spades.

“You are better than this, Len,” Lisa fumed as she rushed off.

They heard the clang of another door slam shut. Leonard sighed and shut his eyes. There’s something about a woman’s anger that is exhausting, especially when they are in the right. He’s going to need to explain himself to Lisa tomorrow but Miss Six, right now, has no reason to know that he cheated.

He knew there was something familiar about Miss Six the moment he laid eyes on her and watching her play poker tonight made it all the clearer. She stretched an average three-and-a-half-hour game into seven without the blink of an eye, viciously taking out the two weaker players to focus all her attention on the strong one. She was the true winner tonight.

He sighed, wishing again he didn’t push her buttons.

“I know why you were at her door this morning.”

Leonard looked up. Mick had two beers in tow. He couldn’t help but smile as he took a beer from Mick. Mick sat down next to him. Leonard took a swig and began scraping at the label of his beer bottle.

“You’re not as stupid as you let people think, Mick.”

“I need to hear you say it, man.”

“I accidentally got an extra coffee––”

“––you don’t do anything by accident––”

“––and I just wanted to bring it to her––”

“––No you didn’t––”

“––and I also wanted to check up on her,” Leonard finally finished.

“Why.”

Leonard sighed and finally confessed, “Because I want her and, although I don’t know her well, I know enough about her to know it’s more than just physical.”

Mick sighed, knowing that this very situation, an unusual situation with an unusual hold on both their hearts, would happen in the twenty years they’ve known each other.

“You beat me to it. Of course, you fuckin’ beat me to it.”

“Your turn now. Why did you bring her breakfast?”

“Lisa asked me to.”

Leonard laughed sarcastically.

“I’ve known you for many years. Doing something because someone told you to is the worst lie ever.”

“What is it about her for you?”

“I don’t know, to be honest.”

 “She’s really hot,” Mick said after a swill.

“She _is_ one of a kind.”

“So pretty.”

“She is.”

“And sexy.”

“Especially when she punched you in the face.”

“She’s got a badass scar now,” Mick laughed.

“That you left her.”

It was such a palpable feeling when all the humor sucked out of the room by that sentence.

“She marked me up too.”

“She would’ve just left you some bruises. You tried to break her face.”

“I don’t know why I hit her,” Mick admitted. He paused. “I’m glad it healed right.”

“You mean you’re _grateful_ it healed right,” Leonard snapped, making sure his choice in word weighed heavy with the gravity of its meaning.

Mick bobbed his head momentarily.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. She’s made her choice.”

“What do you mean?” Leonard asked, furrowing his brow in confusion.

“You kissed her and she let you.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Why can’t you just admit it?” mick said angrily.

“I wanted to kiss her. So bad. But I didn’t. She was very drunk, and I wanted her to remember the first time I kiss her. If she’ll have me.”

“How are you so sure you’re the one she wants,” Mick grumbled, unwittingly revealing how jealous he was.

“I guess we’ll see, Mick.”

“I guess.”


	7. On Our Way

It’s been five days and nights since that disappointing night of Poker. Miss Six had stayed cooped up in her room, trying to sleep the misery away, only talking or coming out after Lisa tenaciously coaxes her to eat something, anything to keep her from going into full starve mode.

She could’ve sworn Leonard knocked on her door the second night but she never got up to check.

On the fourth day, Lisa came in to check on the stitches. Finally, they were ready to be taken out. It was a silent ordeal as Lisa worked, the echoes of the scissors snapping together felt ridiculously loud. After the fifth and final cut _,_ Miss Six looked in her mirror and gently massaged her cheek. The raised scar tissue felt smooth as she stroked it morosely.

On the fifth day, she finally found the will to come out of her room voluntarily. To her slight dismay, she realized she was alone on this very morning. She wandered around a bit, about to go into Lisa’s room to play video games to distract herself when she realized there were other parts of the warehouse she never got to see yet.

Miss Six wandered into a bedroom with work out equipment in the far side. A large bed was on the other end; comfortable looking with soft grey cotton sheets but with Spartan-like décor. A small table with a bright overhead light had a set of tools and gear, a blank space in the middle missing the gun. And although very sparsely decorated, the room was somehow a mess. A stack of pizza boxes collected dust in the corner and dirty clothes were strewn in a pile at the foot of the bed.

Mick’s room.

She wandered around a little longer, distastefully eyeing the overflowing trash can, until she noticed a clutter that caught her attention. A haphazard stack of books, most of which were recipe compilations, guides on seasoning and herbs, reference books for different types of meat and different cuts, and more. So many books on cooking. Miss Six began leafing through some of them, thoroughly stunned that a man of such unrefined nature and brusque attitude had a love for, what seems to be, very fine dining. Her suspicions were further reinforced when she found notebooks upon notebooks filled with original recipes and copious notes on the final results.

She wandered into the other room across, all the way on the other side of the warehouse and yanked the door open. Very obviously, Leonard’s room. It was decorated meagerly like Mick’s, although with a little more taste and style thrown together. Shades of deep navy blue were the main theme, much more put together, neat, and more importantly, clean. A beautiful King sized bed of solid Persian blue satin sheets was the main centerpiece of the room, the deep espresso wood headboard pushed against the top middle wall. She squeezed her legs together, a fiery, jealous feeling billowing in her loins, just thinking about how many women he’s had in those sheets.

Miss Six turned away from the bed, trying to push those thoughts away, and moved into another corner to look at his large desk. Like Mick’s, there was a space Leonard dedicated to just for his Cold Gun, screws, soldering irons, and other various tools were strewn about the graph-printed table. Additional blueprints of the gun and various structures were strewn across the rest of the area, no doubt to work on improving his best tool and for staking out high value targets.

As she moved away from the table she looked behind her to find bookshelves of bookshelves lined up to make a literal wall of books from the floor to the ceiling, inclusive of every particular subject imaginable. On the highest shelf towards the left, she noticed there were a line of unmarked books, saved for what seemed like “Years” written on the spine. _1999, 2000, 2001, 2002…_ The older the year, the more tattered the book seemed. Miss Six stepped up on her tippy toes and slipped one off the shelf; 1989.

She regretted the moment she cracked it open. She should’ve known these were Leonard’s own personal journals. The curiosity to read his impeccable, narrow handwriting burned wildly in her but the fear of what she may find in reading his truth overcame her. Miss Six lamely slipped the journal back on the top shelf. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment; what would Leonard have done if he caught her snooping? She couldn’t help but cringe painfully thinking about that prospect. As she meandered down the wall, she was distracted by the growing number of music CDs, with the last bookshelf containing entirely of old school records.

The potential nightmare of Leonard walking in on her was quickly forgotten when she found out they had rather similar tastes. Basically, anything but country, with some rare exceptions. She was shocked to find one of her favorites––a mix that included Sam Cooke’s “Bring It On Home to Me.” She pulled the record from the shelf and walked back to the living room, she clearly remembered there was a record player there. She placed the record and put the needle on. As the melody came on and lilted through the speakers, she placed her hands on the desk, gently swaying her hips to the rhythm.

The lyrics slipped from her lips as she sang along.

“Oh, oh, bring it to me, bring your sweet lovin’––”

“Cute.”

Miss Six fumbled miserably to turn off the record player, face bright red, as she spun around to watch Leonard watch her. A rather lecherous smirk began to creep up on that horribly handsome face of his when he noticed she was wearing a very tight t-shirt, very tiny, tight, black hip hugging shorts, and socks. Her blush deepened as she watched his eyes travel up and down her form; she pulled the t-shirt lower to cover herself a little more, only to reveal more of her chest.

She could’ve sworn she saw a twinkle in Leonard’s eyes.

“How long have you been standing there?” she hissed.

His smirk widened into a smile as he took his parka off and dropped it in a nearby armchair.

“Long enough to hear you sing a little,” he crooned, icy eyes gazing into hers, “after I saw you coming out of my room with my record.”

_Fuck!_

Her nightmare, actually coming true right this moment. Miss Six simmered in her embarrassment and kept her eyes down, unable to meet his stare, as she quickly walked away from the living room. She heard movement and looked over her shoulder to watch Leonard stride to the record player and restart the song. As he held out his hand to her, she realized with shock that he wanted to dance. Leonard noticed her hesitation and restarted the song once Sam started singing.

“Just one dance, Darling.”

Miss Six felt herself slowly deflate as he called her that. She secretly loved it. She slowly slid her hand into his, marveling at how his large palm and long fingers wrapped around her tiny hand. He was gentle as he put his other arm around her waist and pulled her close.

If her heart could pound any faster, it would jump out of her chest.

“I’m not a bad guy, you know,” he says in her ear.

His voice felt like liquid velvet.

“That’s ironic,” she says, pulling away a little to look at him.

Leonard smiled that boyish smile.

“I’ll steal you jewelry,” he sang playfully, “and money too––”

“ _Ugh,_ those aren’t even the right words,” she grunted, annoyed, trying to push away from him.

But he was too fast for her; he pulled her back again, only now she’s flush against his chest, his arm tight, yet tender, around her waist, his other hand firm, yet soft, in her hair, forcing her to look up at him. Still reeling from the shock of being held so close, she tried to struggle out of his grip but he was too strong; the grips around her waist and in her hair got tighter and tighter, her heart pounding harder and harder.

The dominance in this simple action was palpable but so gentle; the strange combination felt like the chilling anticipation of the gentle twists of a whip right before it was ready to strike. She started getting angry again from her loss of control but, at the same time, that familiar tightness between her legs came back. Her heart thudded wildly as his glare pierced through her, leaving chills down her spine. Her cheeks flushed even further as she uselessly rested her hand on his shoulder, now completely enamored. The triumph glowed in his eyes and smile as he relaxed his grasp on her.

“You know, I didn’t get a chance to thank you for what a wonderful night we had together,” he said, tenderly.

Miss Six regarded him breathless uncertainty as he removed his hand from her tresses and caressed her cheek with his finger. Suddenly, she remembered more of what was said that night.

_“I didn’t realize how handsome you were until I saw you up close.”_

_“That’s too bad ‘cause I already saw you were so beautiful from so far away.”_

She cringed at the drunken memory, as he spoke again.

“I just want you to know that you probably think that things of uh… an unsavory nature occurred, but I want to assure you that nothing happened.”

“Um, thanks,” she said, hesitantly.

She couldn’t help but believe him. What reason would he ever have to lie to her? While her relief wasn’t audible in her tone, Miss Six started to feel more assured and now that she’s more confident that nothing wild happened, she allowed herself to relish in his flirting from that night. Some guilt and shame shadowed the pleasure and yearning, but it just somehow made it more dangerous and forbidden. The potential of him running his hand up her thigh or nuzzling her neck was enough to make the tight feeling between her legs extra.

“I have a proposition for you,” Leonard said, interrupted her fantasizing, “and before you assume that it’s my _naughtier_ side asking, allow me to reassure you that it’s not.”

Miss Six pursed her lips for a moment before looking back at him and asking, “What?”

The corners of his mouth turned up more after he saw she was being genuinely curious and open.

“We have a job coming up. A casino this time, and we never get to hit these as often as we’d like. It’s a larger one that we’re used to but we would’ve been able to do it with a crew of four if Mick’s partner suddenly decided to be… out.”

Her blood chilled at the multitude of possibilities the word “out” could mean. She pressed her lips together nervously as she looked back up at him.

“Um… okay?”

Leonard furrowed his brows in a frown.

“Are you not getting it, Sweetheart? If you help me with this job, I will let you go. Immediately. The next morning.”

Miss Six froze in their little dance and twirl. The song ended, immediately moving on to Astrud Gilberto’s “Agua de Beber.”

“I understand completely, Leonard,” she said with a bite, “but I can’t tell if you’re telling the truth or playing games.”

Leonard gave a gentle squeeze on her waist and hand, indicating he wanted to continue dance. They resumed swaying, a little more softly and gently this time to match the equally calm and demur song.

“If I tell you why I’m making you this offer, will you promise not to get angry? It’s part of why I’m actually not mad you went in my room without my permission but if you wanted to see my bedroom so bad you should’ve just asked––”

“I’m pretty sure that’s a loaded question,” Miss Six cut him off; he pursed his lips together amusedly. “And I’m pretty sure you don’t want me to go _Pulp Fiction_ on explaining why it’s a loaded question.”

He chuckled a bit and released her a bit to twirl her. As she came back to him, Leonard looped his arm back around her waist and said quickly, but honestly, explained how he cheated in the Poker game that night. The anger started flaring up in her chest again and she felt her cheeks grow hot as she started to push him away. She felt the mental guards slam back up into her mind, the little guys in her brain furiously reinforcing the walls.

“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised,” Miss Six forced out in measured rage.

She noticed a skip in beat when he minutely paused in their dancing.

“I’m sorry, Miss Six,” he said apologetically.

“I don’t know why, but I do want to believe you really are sorry.”

Leonard released her hand to gently tip her chin up so she could look him in the eye. Genuine remorse in those steely blue eyes.

“I am, Sweetheart.”

She said nothing as she looked down again. He continued to hold her close as they continued to dance. As the song ended, he let go of her waist, but now held her hands gently in his.

“Think about it, Miss Six,” he said coyly before leaving the room.

Miss Six stared after him as his shadow disappeared behind the door. Of course, she’s going to do it. She would be a fool not to. While her heart swelled with excitement at the prospect of finally being able to go home, a thousand thoughts and feelings swirled in her head. The fact that she’d probably never see him ever again was a confusing feeling enough; it was a ridiculous swirl of relief and anxiety.

As she wandered back towards her room, she realized what the other feeling was, the only feeling that overrides the initial worry. She’d technically be leaving on _his_ terms only. In other words, she would’ve lost.

And she absolutely refused to lose.

–––––––

The next two weeks Miss Six slept very well but not enough. Mick and Leonard had something of a replica, as close to life size as possible, of their path of action for the casino put together in the warehouse, complete with their start at one of the roulette tables, to moving towards the back to their goal of the safe. The furniture and crates that were put together to make other makeshift rooms were pushed against the walls to make room. The hours went long into the night as they rehearsed the plan and memorized the blueprints and security system nuances. She couldn’t help but feel impressed by this set up and how meticulous they are.

_So very… Ocean’s Eleven._

Some days were good, the night ending with hugs for them and a clink of a whiskey glass for Miss Six before turning in to do it again the next morning with high hopes. Other days were a little worse, sometimes with Mick losing his temper and breaking a pool stick or some part of the casino replica or Lisa raising her voice at Leonard about some unusual flaw in the plan. Miss Six was often silent in these ordeals, trying not to attract attention while they hashed it out with each other. This worked until Leonard asked for her input on the eleventh night.

“Miss Six, are you with us?” he called out.

She snapped out of her reverie, her beer bottle almost slipping out of her hand.

“Yeah I’m here. Sorry.”

“What are your thoughts?”

She stared blankly at him.

“The best way to get to the safe,” Mick rumbled.

“Why are you asking me?” Miss Six said, taken aback. “You guys are the professionals.”

“Sometimes we need a fresh perspective,” Lisa said, very visibly tired.

Miss Six sighed and reluctantly stood up from the cushy armchair that Mick usually inhabits and made her way to the model table of a roulette table, covered in blueprints. She’s never seen blueprints before except for the movies, but at the same time, she couldn’t help but wonder if these were the same blueprints she saw them with that night she first broke out of her room.

She started scanning the blueprints and slowly adjusted. It’s basically just reading a map of a building. The notes and legend helped guide her as she pinpointed the entrance and room they’d be starting in.

“Well, um…” she began a little shakily. “You can’t start anything all the way out here. It’s just too far from the payload.”

They were silent until she saw Lisa raise her chin, encouraging her to continue.

“You’ll just need to play our way through to get closer, there’s no other way,” Miss Six continued a little more confidently. “I get why you guys have been playing Poker––”

“We actually just like Poker,” Lisa chuckled.

Miss Six laughed lightly, despite of herself.

“Well, I guess it’s a good use for the hobby, but hopefully you guys are more well versed in other casino games as well. So you’re gonna continue down into what I’m guessing is the High Rollers room. As soon as you get here, this is where you’ll need to start breaking off. A distraction catching the attention of the guards would be nice since you can’t go through the back, that’s where they have the special ops guys and you’ll need to be more––”

“Sorry, Darling, but I can’t help but notice you don’t seem to include yourself in this operation of _ours_ ,” Leonard laughed a little sarcastically. “You keep saying _you_ instead of _we.”_

Miss Six balked a little but regained her composure.

“I mean, this is _your_ operation, I––”

“Still missing the point, Missy,” Mick rumbled. “I don’t think you understand what’s happening here.”

She stared at him, beer bottle limp in her hand, as he pushed himself off the wall and walked towards her.

“You’re in the process of replanning our entire heist. For better or worse, you’re part of us now.”

Miss Six hazarded a quick glance at him to see Mick looking down at her, arms crossed, with a bit of a quizzical look.

“From what we’ve been hearing you sound pretty well versed,” Lisa said. “How and why is that?”

Miss Six took a breath.

“My dad was in the military. The way he’d try to bond with me is… talk about military strategy. So I guess that’s where I get it from.”

After a beat, she continued speaking, finishing her presentation of the plan. Rather impressed with her input, Leonard revamped the plan accordingly based on her notes. The rest of their practice runs went significantly more smoothly.

“Well done, Miss Six,” he hummed as they returned to their rooms for sleep.

On the last night after practice before the actual job, she stumbled into her bedroom and in her hazy exhaustion, noticed a pile of clothes folded neatly on the bed. It was her outfit from when they took the bank that day.

She wandered towards the bed and picked up the first item; her leather jacket. It was cleaned and mended perfectly, the tear almost unperceivable in the stitch work. The black skinny jeans were cleaned and washed as well. The white shirt was brand new, complete with tags. She suddenly felt a desire to press her face into the clothes and breathed in.

They smelled like Leonard.

 

–––––––

 

“Wake up, Sweetheart.”

Miss Six stirred from her slumber, hair a mess and bed sheets all awry. Rubbing the sleep boogers out of her eye, she saw Leonard at her door. She mumbled sleepily as she tossed and turned in bed, the blankets rode up, exposing her bare legs. Leonard allowed his eyes to linger, savoring the sight, just for a bit before tearing his eyes away.

“Today’s the day, Baby.”

These words woke her up even more as she sat up, aggressively rubbing her eye.

“Yeah, I know,” she grumbled, also trying to fix her hair at the same time.

As she woke up, Leonard stepped out for a moment before gracefully walking back in with a suit bag. She watched him warily.

“Open it,” he said as an afterthought.

Her eyes narrowed once more as she got up, pulling the long, slim t-shirt a little more down to cover more of her legs. She unzipped the suit bag as Leonard held the bag up, feeling very aware and cognizant that he never took his eyes away from her. She unzipped slowly, not sure if she was doing so to let him drink in a sight of her more and more or if she was nervous, heart pounding madly in her ears. Only until the protective sheath fell off, her eyes immediately drawn to the dress.

It was a beautiful black, high–low, A-Line dress. A style she always wanted to try but never had the guts to actually put on. She touched it. The fabric was soft and smooth. A combination of lace and silk. Expensive. It dipped rather low on her back and she quickly realized Leonard purposely chose this dress to show off the tattoo right below the base of her neck.

Although blushing immensely from the millions of possibilities of how he knows she has a tattoo of crossed swords there, she loved the dress; so _Mad Men-_ esque but with a more modern twist.

She noticed something dangling – stockings hung on the rung on the hanger. She pulled them down and flushed even more, tight fishnet thigh highs, with black lace garters. The heels, that she noticed in the suit bag that fell, were black too; and just as daring with its caged style.

She heard a faint purr and stepped out of her reverie and looked at the source of the sound. Leonard’s eyes were low, head bowed, leering at her through his lashes, lips still smirking but right now, somehow predatory feeling. He purposely picked out these items because it was what _he_ wanted to see on her.

“You’re doing that thing I told you I really like,” he hummed, dropping the dress and pulling her close by the waist.

Her heart raced faster and faster as he drew her close. She was too shy to look him in the face until he tipped her chin up. Warm russet eyes keening into icy, teal glare. He shifts his hands up to her pout and pulled her bottom lip down with his thumb; she was biting her lower lip this entire time.

“It’s only fair if you _share_ your bottom lip with me, Doll.”

She couldn’t help but sigh, heartbeat rolling with her breath. Her resolve in resisting dissipating quickly, heavily considering just throwing herself into his arms. But almost as if on cue, Leonard gave her a gentle spank on her butt and said before stepping out, “Get dressed, Kitten.”

It felt so wrong but she couldn’t help but feel disappointed as she made her way to the shower.

After a reasonable hour of her getting ready – in between Mick’s angry thomping on her door – she finally felt presentable. Hair clean and washed, skin moisturized, make up immaculate, dress on her _perfect_.

_I look great,_ she thought as she looked at herself in the full-length mirror.

She spun around in a circle to marvel at the skirt billowing in the twist, inadvertently knocking into the dresser. Something clattered to the floor; a small clutch. Black leather enveloping the rectangular box like shape, with spikes.

_Not a very smart choice on his part,_ she thought ironically as she popped it open.

_I figured out what you like and I didn’t want to insult you by giving you something contrary to your tastes._

_Don’t make me regret it._

_-L_

She flushed again as she folded the note back up; he can’t blame her for thinking about it. Her head snapped up as he heard a gentle knock; not the gorilla-like banging Mick was making her suffer to.

“Come in!” she called, proud that her voice did not waver.

The door opened and Leonard came in. Her breath caught as she watched him waltz into her room; dressed to the nines. A slim black suit, white shirt, black tie. Lovely black dress shoes.

“Wow,” she involuntarily gasped.

He knew she liked what she saw; he smiled that infuriating crooked smile as he grabbed his tie and slowly pulled his hand down the length of it.

“Likewise, Honey,” he said softly, and she swore she heard the elation in his voice. He parted his lips, breathing a little heavier as he watched her eyes follow his hands, bottom lip tucked between her lips again.

As he got to the bottom of his tie, he gripped it in his fist and held the moan in his throat when he heard her gently sigh. Her breath hitched as she watched him flick the tie out of his fist with a flourish. Taking that to be his signal, he pounced on her. With a yelp, she fell backwards onto the bed, Leonard swished her skirts up and laid on top of her, having her legs straddle his waist.

Miss Six’s heart was raced again, breath heavy, as she processed what just happened. She was suddenly aware of Leonard’s erection pressing roughly into her panties. The flush in her cheeks and her arousal grew when she realized her legs were so exposed, the straps of her garters showing, from him shoving her skirt up to her waist. Her heart pounded even faster as he wrapped one arm tightly around his waist while the other hand threaded in her hair, like their dance that night. As he gazed into her eyes before his lips to hers, passionate, hungry, wanton.

She felt her heart jump out of her chest as her arms reflexively wrapped around him, melting into his kiss. His icy smell of pine and firewood meshed with his taste of sweet mint just overloaded her senses. She felt him sucking on her bottom lip, shivering at the sensation, until he bit down.

_Hard._

She gasped loudly, the shock of pleasure and pain meshing together traveling up and down her body before vibrating between her legs. As her mouth opened, he plunged his tongue into her mouth, aggressively exploring her as she moaned lustfully. She tried to weakly writhe away, desperate for him to chase her, only to be locked in his iron grip around her waist. The hand in her hair tightened and yanked, her neck exposed. She whimpered as she felt her skin tingle in anticipation, heart rate elevated and fearful but aroused at the same time as she breathed heavy while her hands rested on his chest.

She shifted her eyes to look at him, saw him watching her. Leonard gazed deeply into her, looking uncertain. Asking for permission. She nodded, as eagerly as she could, in his grip. She didn’t know how much she wanted this until now. There was something that made it extra sexy, getting intimate with a wanted criminal. He smirked at her devilishly, her heart doing somersaults in her stomach, as he lowered his face into the crook of her neck.

_“LET’S GO, SNART!”_ Mick roared, banging on the door.

_What impeccable timing,_ she thought, wanting to scream in frustration.

Leonard sighed and buried his head in the crook of her neck, his grip loosening in her hair. She savored the warmth of her face and tilted her head to feel his cheek against hers. It felt nice while she felt her throbbing heart slow.

“ _YOU CAN BANG YOUR HOSTAGE GIRLFRIEND LATER, SNART!”_ Mick bellowed again when he heard no one answer.

She winced a little.

She knew he said “hostage” to remind Leonard of what she was.

She knew he said “girlfriend” to remind _her_ of what _he_ was.

She didn’t understand why she was so hurt by this.

Leonard looked up, smiling at her gently.

“Sorry, Sweetheart,” he said softly with a wink. “I promise we’ll finish what we started.”

She shut her eyes and bit her lip as he pressed his lips to her neck before rolling off her. Leonard blindfolded her before opening the door; although he’s almost absolutely positive she isn’t going to tell anyone or go to the police, he’d just rather just be safe than sorry. As he held her hand to lead her into the car, he felt a similar sensation to when he first touched her hand at the bank; the warmth of her skin brimming. His heart shook nervously as he thought, _She balances me out_.

“Drive, Mick,” he purred, placing his cool hand on hers.

As the car pulled out of the driveway, he laced his fingers through hers and was stunned to feel her reciprocate. He looked at her; even though the blindfold was on her perfectly, she faced the window to not give him the satisfaction of seeing her blush. Leonard smiled despite himself, his thumb gently stroking her hand. He liked this.

“I have something for you,” he said, unlacing her fingers and stroking her wrist gently.

She slowly turned her face, her lush lips slightly parted.

He pulled out a black chrome bracelet, something that felt akin to bicycle links. Leonard dropped it on her wrist and it snapped in place, perfectly contouring to her wrist. Her hand shot up to remove the blindfold but he stopped her, clicking his tongue.

“Not yet, Darling.”

She sighed, frustrated, as she dropped her hand. She stroked the bracelet, feeling it to imagine what it would potentially look like.

“Why?” she said quietly.

He paused, trying to figure out how to phrase it to her without pissing her off. Her brows furrowed, her plump lips pressed into a straight line as she waited. Seeing as there’s no way around it, he told her the truth. Bluntly. Again.

“This is the latest tech for the worst of the worst in maximum security prisons,” he said, still stroking her arm. “It’s to keep the wild ones in check.”

Her hand curled into a fist.

“And what does that mean?” she said as levelly as she could. “‘In check.’”

He pulled his hand away and turned his head to face her, waiting for her to fight. In the corner of her eye, he can see Lisa watching the both of them in the rearview mirror.

“It means that if you try to fight me, I push a button and you will get electrocuted,” Leonard said carefully. “If you try to run, I push another button and you will get injected with a tranquilizer. I’m assuming you won’t need me to explain to me what would happen if you tried to take the bracelet off without my permission.”

They were quiet for a long time before Miss Six finally crossed her arms, the resentment and anger rolling off her in waves.

“That’d be a pretty stupid thing to do since you’re gonna let me go after the job. _Right?_ ”

“Better safe than sorry, Sweetheart. Please understand.”

“Where’s the casino?”

Leonard hid a smirk; she’ll forgive him.

“Don’t worry, Darling. We’re on our way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your patience, guys. Sorry it took extra long for this one to come out, I got back from vacation and also got engaged! EEEE! Also, I know I promised posting up the playlist I've been building, but I'm having trouble find a good site. Does anyone know a good playlist building site where I could also attach notes to each song? All relevant, I promise.


	8. Wonderland

Twice Miss Six felt the car stop, the cold air outside air lapping at her ankles. She managed to figure out they were swapping cars after the first rush of doors opening and massive hands––Mick?––grabbing her shoulders to almost physically move her to the next car, like an inanimate object. She felt her heart drop as a grim thought crossed her mind; in her dazed helplessness, she was lucky to have been taken by Leonard and Mick, and not by someone who could’ve been much worse.

 _It_ _’_ _s still not too late,_ she thought dismally.

They drove for another forty–five minutes in silence before finally stopping.

“We’re here,” Leonard said.

Miss Six shivered at feeling his breath fanning the side of her neck. She inhaled softly at a gentle tug and the blindfold fell from her face. As her eyes slowly adjusted, she saw it was dusk. They must have left sometime in the mid–afternoon and must have been driving for quite a while. Leonard got out of the car and walked to the other side and opened her door, holding his hand out to help her out. As she was about to say thanks, she looked further into the distance, and when she caught sight of the casino, she was stunned into silence. It was beautiful, ornate, and classical style that was reminiscent of Versailles, with its enormous, elegant water fountain and sprawling hedge mazes.

“Welcome to Wonderland,” Leonard said, the excitement resonating strongly in his voice. He proffered his arm to her and she took it and they began walking.

This was in the middle of nowhere, far away from the city, and it was clearly not legal. Armed guards patrolled the outer perimeter, standing atop the higher hedges for vantage point. As they walked towards the casino, suited men with earpieces stood by every door. From the blueprints, Miss Six noticed the decorative “knobs” that were placed along the windowsills inside the gargantuan glass but she well knew they were motion triggered lasers that spread around the room, set up to have erratic and unpredictable patterns on purpose. But with the way Miss Six had reformatted the plan, they can avoid them.

As long as everything goes according to the _damn plan._

“Wow.”

"It's home to the likes of us."

“What's that supposed to mean?"

"C’mon, Sweetie––”

"I'm nothing like you. I’ve never killed anyone before."

He did not take offense but was surprised at the venom in her words. He smiled, looking down at his shoes and said, “I don't do that anymore, Honey."

Miss Six said nothing but shivered involuntarily from the chilly air and shifted uncomfortably, just looking exhausted.

“Let’s just get this done, Leonard,” she sighed.

“Show them you're my Lucky Lady, Miss Six."

She huffed a bit in a bad attempt to hide her badly faked displeasure, while thinking, _Ten._ Leonard raised his chin with a ghost of a smile. Miss Six watched Lisa and Mick walking a little further ahead and enjoyed the sound of gravel crunching under their shoes. She couldn’t help but feel that, although Mick seemed to be looking at Lisa while she talked, he was really looking _her_ through the corner of his eye. She looked down to the ground, trying to avoid his gaze.

As they entered the foyer, Miss Six marveled once more at how lavish it all was. The high ceilings had the most wonderfully fresco paintings on its large, domed surface. Monumentally tall windows allowed the natural moonlight in, framed with thick red and white colors, alternating the two colors between each window. The stairs they ascended in the foyer were just as extravagant with rolling burgundy carpets, which accented nicely against the gold gilded bannisters and the rose quartz floor, and wonderful, large paintings hung on the walls.

Miss Six’s childlike wonderment quickly ceased as she felt Leonard’s cool hand on hers. She looked back in front of her and could not help but nervously gulp at the sight of the gunmen before them. The guard on the left, large and burly, held his hand up to stop them while the other, stocky and bowlegged, beckoned Miss Six to take her arm off Leonard’s to separate them, and scanned them up and down with a metal detector. With more and more apprehension, Miss Six watched the guard thoroughly pat down Leonard. They better thank her later for forcing them to leave the guns in the car, but she was more nervous about this goon having to touch her. A feeling that was equally shared with everyone in the area as the men glanced nervously at each other. Miss Six flamed with anger and snarled, “Don’t you dare.”

As the stocky guard ran off, flustered, to retrieve his female counterpart, Leonard murmured in her hair, “I could pat you down, y’know. It’d save us all a lot of time.”

It was all Miss Six could do from melting into the grips of the female guard who began searching her.

As they finally entered the main room of the fifth floor, Miss Six felt her anxiety building until she finally spotted Mick and Lisa across the other side of the gaming floor. Her relief caught in her throat as Mick looked up and met her eyes, as if he could feel her searching for him. Like Leonard, Mick was dressed handsomely but he was… different. More rugged, less refined. His bowtie was undone and hung around his neck easily and the first two buttons of his white shirt were also undone, giving a teasing glimpse of the start of his pecs. As his gaze pierced hers, the rest of Mick’s expression was unreadable, save for a brief quiver of his bottom lip. He pressed it into something of a reassuring grimace and Miss Six finally exhaled and nodded once, appreciative of his subtle comfort from a distance.

Mick’s eyes shifted to Miss Six’s left and whatever warmth there was dissipated quickly. She looked up to see Leonard staring daggers at Mick with equally cool regard but his face betrayed nothing, save for the single clench of his jaw. Miss Six’s face flushed as she gently pulled at Leonard’s arm and beckoned him to continue leading her through the gaming floor. Anything to get away from this weird, unsettling energy that is _obviously_ about her.

“Let’s go, Len,” she said softly.

Leonard looked down at her, an eyebrow cocked in pleasant surprise.

“Only my sister calls me that,” he said, wrapping his hand around hers.

“I’m sorry,” Miss Six said, looking away. But she reciprocated in holding his hand.

“It’s okay,” Leonard smiled, “Something different with the way you say it. I like it.”

They began walking deeper into the gaming room and out of Mick’s line of sight, neither of them noticing the resentful look on Mick’s face.

As they moved towards the cashiers, Miss Six looked around as Leonard got their chips. Lilting music flowed through invisible speakers, the sounds akin to that of Parov Stelar and Caravan Palace. There was a small dance floor at the far end of the room, with a somewhat large group of people dancing. But these people dancing, as well as the other patrons, were interesting. Sure, they were all wonderfully, elegantly, and beautifully dressed, and she was relieved that Leonard picked out the appropriate dress for her to wear, but they stood out as she quickly realized what some of these people were.

There were human traffickers and they were given the widest berth, as if people avoided them like they were a curse. They walked around the casino with their male or female companions, marked by unique brands under their left eye, as a way to show off their merchandise. There were mobsters, who all shook hands by a nondescript door and, all single file, walked in, no doubt paying for a safe and convenient space for their meeting. The most obvious group were arms dealers, who lugged their huge cases of God–knows–what into a different room. It was like being in a weird alternate dimension where criminals are the ones who led normal, regular lives.

Then there was another group that stood out to her the most. They were the closest to Miss Six, playing baccarat. A woman at the table, who wore the most daring, body clinging, floor length silver gown, was focused very intently on her game but her eyes fluctuated colors, from black to blue, to red, to grey. Another person at the table, a _very_ handsome man, levitated his chips in the air and placed them neatly.

Her eyes had to have been playing tricks on her. She remembered the blueprints included technology to suppress metahuman powers for the safety of the casino, but she never expected to see them with her own––

“You act like you’ve just seen your first metahuman.”

Miss Six spun around to find Leonard with two huge hulking men, each holding a very large tray of chips.

“I guess I did,” Miss Six said shakily, ogling at the chips.

_That_ _’_ _s at least a few million._

Leonard side eyed the other casino patrons; men looked at her with lust while glaring at him with jealousy. Women stared enviously at her while stealing hopeful glances at Leonard, trying to catch his eye. He smirked in victory; they were having the intended effect. He glanced across the room and saw Lisa and Mick doing the same charade.

"So, was I supposed to be a pretty piece for you to parade around while you rob the casino but you just got lucky that I could help?" Miss Six said as they to the bar.

"You're more than just a pretty thing," Leonard said, flagging the bartender down.

“You’re side stepping the question,” Miss Six said flatly as she took her whiskey on the rocks from the bartender.

He meant it genuinely but can see that she took it as shallow flirting as she took a gulp of whiskey from her glass.

"I can see you were just _dying_ to ask me,” he said, swilling his drink.

"I’m not giving you the satisfaction."

"You saying that already gave me the satisfaction,” he chuckled as he smiled and slipped an arm around her waist. “Why are you trying to get away from me so bad? I know you liked what we did right before we left."

She felt the heat bloom in her face as she bashfully looked down. She couldn’t lean away from him, not that she wanted to, but she did not like being played like a puppet. She felt him nuzzle her cheek with his nose, a humming in his chest.

"Stop it."

"Why?"

"Is this something you do when you take young girls hostage?” she snapped as quietly as she could. “Do… _this_ to them until they're wrapped around your finger? You don't even know my name."

“So why don't you tell me? Is your name Alice? It’d be _so_ fitting, given where we are.”

She flicked her eyes up to look at him.

"Why do you even wanna know so bad?" she said flatly.

“I actually already know from the news, but you didn’t give me permission.”

“Well, why is it so _fucking_ important to you?” Miss Six spat out.

The afterglow from earlier this afternoon had immediately dissipated in this moment. She shouldn’t have let what had happened happen. Miss Six couldn’t help but feel so angry at his attempt in trying to make her feel important when they all know they would never see each other again after tonight. She wondered if he realized the same thing as his smile slowly dropped from his face, at a loss for words.

"What?" she muttered, trying to egg him on.

He was about to answer but she heard Mick’s voice buzzing in his earpiece and watched Leonard's face harden as he put his hand up to his ear. It was time to get into position. _Mick, as always with his_ impeccable _timing,_ she thought bitterly.

“It's Show Time, Baby," Leonard said with what Miss Six could only describe as an excited smile.

“Why don’t I get an ear piece?” she muttered as he pulled her further into the casino.

They maneuvered towards a Black Jack table and Miss Six watched him easily win a few thousand and quickly lose most of it. She glanced around the room disinterestedly, remembering this was just a farce to distract the eyes in the sky. She allowed him to get engrossed in his process as she stood by, only to realize that she could spread around the distraction. Miss Six leaned over him, low enough for the ends of her voluminous locks tickle the top of Leonard’s ear.

In what she hoped was a sexy whisper, she said, “You’re boring me.”

She was loud enough for the people next to them to hear but still low enough to not attract the wrong attention. The man behind her gasped as Leonard looked up at her incredulously, his shock faltering a bit as he observed her face. Miss Six leaned forward a little more and gently tapped his lips with hers, nipping at his bottom lip. Leonard inhaled sharply as she pulled away and walked to another table, and as Miss Six looked back at him as she settled at a Poker table, she saw a smile flit across his face.

She did her best to ignore the stony glare from Mick from the above floor balcony.

She started winning. In fact, she started winning so much there was not one, but three security goons behind her to ensure no one harassed her by the end of the game. She tried to hold in her excitement; never has she seen so much money before her. She must’ve garnered at least eight hundred grand in the last hour.

She scanned the upper balcony for Lisa or Mick for some kind of hint as to what’s going on. She glanced to the Black Jack table. Leonard was gone. Miss Six started getting antsy again. It’s been about three hours, there’s no sign of any of them, and she has no earpiece, which gradually frustrated her to no end. As if hearing her call, Lisa came to the balcony and balked at seeing how much Miss Six has won. Miss Six tried to remain impassive to not give herself away. Lisa just smirked and nodded, signaling her to start losing her chips.

 Miss Six’s breath hitched.

_They got the Payload._

Her heartbeat was heavy like a gong as she carelessly made a big bet.

 _I aided and abetted in a crime,_ she thought in dread, _I_ _’_ _m a criminal!_

But this realization made her feel dirty and bad and exhilarated all at once. She was grateful that she was able to hide her feelings through her act of being distraught at losing, though the taunts from the other players at the table went in one ear and out the other. After putting on this show for about an hour, Leonard finally slid behind Miss Six and whispered, “We gotta go.”

Miss Six looked at him incredulously. This wasn’t part of the plan, the plan was to continue acting nondescript and then leaving only when they lost all their chips. She said to him, “I’m still––”

An explosion rocked the house. The chandeliers shook and the lights flickered. People began screaming and running towards the door, and a distinct smell of smoke began to waft through the room. Miss Six, gripping the side of the table, looked at Leonard with wide eyes as he grabbed her by the shoulders.

“Now,” he demanded flatly.

She took his hand and ran with him. People were practically flying down the stairs and for a panicky moment, guards ran towards them, but only towards the direction of the explosion.

“This wasn’t part of the plan, Len!” Miss Six cried once they were outside.

“You will understand soon, Miss Six,” Leonard panted.

They leapt into the car, Leonard in the driver’s seat. As soon as Miss Six threw herself in the back, Leonard tore out of the parking lot, tires screeching.

“Wait! What about Lisa and M––”

“Don’t worry, Baby,” he said calmly, eyes still on the road.

The smell of burning rubber was making Miss Six nauseous as Leonard stopped the car after a drift, flinging Miss Six into the left door. Almost like a farcical heist movie, Lisa dropped bags of money out the fifth-floor window with Mick catching them on the ground. Miss Six and Leonard ran out the car to begin throwing the bags into the trunk. As they piled the final bag of money in the car, Lisa repelled down from the window and screamed, “Get in the fucking car!”

Mick, Len, and Miss Six scrambled into the car, Lisa diving into the passenger seat and tore away just in time for the guards to begin shooting at them. No one gave chase for another ten minutes until she heard three cars’ engines revving to the point of strain to catch up.

“Shit!” Lisa exclaimed.

“What the fuck do we do?!” Miss Six yelled.

“Don’t worry,” Leonard hummed as he pulled out his Cold Gun. “We’re gonna be––”

“Fine?!” Miss Six screaming, cutting him off. “We would’ve been fucking fine if you just followed the plan! At _nowhere, no point,_ were we supposed to blow _anything_ up!”

The only sounds of their guns turning on and the car engines speeding towards them. No one said anything to her outburst and that just pissed her off even more.

“Seriously? Y’all don’t hear me fuckin’ talking now?”

More silence as Mick swiftly maneuvered a tight curve. As Miss Six was about to start bitching again, Lisa shoved Mick’s Heat Gun into her hands. She held it lamely, like it was a paintball gun.

“Have you ever shot a gun before?” Mick bellowed.

“Wha––”

“ _Answer the question!_ _”_ Lisa screamed as she rolled down her window.

Rushing winds took over her hearing, as if the wind was whipping inside within the car.

“ _Yes!_ ”

She watched Lisa shove her upper body through her window and fired a shot. A flash of gold light shoot from Lisa’s pistol and hit the right tire of the closest car in pursuit. Miss Six’s eyes widened as she saw the tire transform into solid gold.

The way the car flipped was phenomenal and she’s never seen anything like it. She watched the car buck down on the right and twist, somersaulting forward so fast it curved over their car in a tight arc and smashed right in front of them. Mick quickly swerved around the wreckage, the last pursuing car following in tight pursuit. Miss Six whipped her head around in time to see one of the remaining cars smash right into the flipped car. She gasped in strangled horror as she watched both cars burst up into flames by the hood. One of the guys in the second car scrambled out and began rousing his team to get the hell out of the car.

Leonard grabbed her wrist and said firmly but softly, “Hey.”

Bullets from the last car tore through, the rear-view window shattering. Leonard pulled Miss Six down behind the seat back. Mick and Lisa ducked down in the front accordingly.

“Hey,” she choked out, pretending the flying glass was just snow.

“Can you do this?”

“Yes,” she said, barely audible over the rushing air from Lisa’s window. Leonard tucked his hand under her chin and tipped upwards. She finally looked at him with panic-stricken eyes, but he was Zen, completely calm and under control.

“It’s like shooting a real gun. Okay?”

She choked back a sob and nodded.

“And remember. Don’t cross streams.”

_What?_

Without waiting for her acknowledgement, Leonard sat up and fired a beam of blinding cold air towards of the pursuing car. The car abruptly braked and stopped in place, allowing the beam to hit the windshield instead of Leonard’s intended target of the engine. They continued speeding down the road as the car re–accelerated. Miss Six poked her head up in time to see the guard in the passenger seat punching out the frozen windshield.

She was hoping to God that she was mistaken, but right before the bullets started flying again, she heard a distant _boom_. The crash exploded.

She clenched her fist in sudden rage. This was all their fault. They could have been leisurely driving away if they just followed the fucking plan to the dot. They wouldn’t have been able to figure out they’ve been robbed until they switched to the first car, at _the very least._ But no, they decided to improvise and now they’re in a shit show.

Without thinking, Miss Six sat up and aimed at the road. Breathing heavy, she did her best to stay calm as she aimed towards the road. There was ample space between theirs and the pursuing car so she aimed towards the asphalt and pulled the trigger, a blast of fire lining across the road to make a barricade, but the pursuant was too fast and sped over the fire.

“Mick,” Miss Six screamed. “Slow down by a little bit!”

“Are you fucking stupid?!” he roared.

“Do it!”

The car began to slow as it got closer and closer, and just as the pursuing Jaguar was about to ram their bumper, Miss Six aimed and pulled the trigger. She clenched her arms as a huge _woosh_ of fire erupted from the barrel. She felt that same horrible heat from when Mick shoved the gun to her head on her hands, wincing as it stung. The car immediately stopped and the men ran out of the car and away from the flames. Mick floored it and Lisa whooped delightedly as the car blew up. Miss Six slumped down in the seat, the Heat Gun slipping out of her shaky fingers and dropping on the floor. She tried to ignore Leonard’s pointed look as he turned back around in his seat.

While gleeful, they did not completely relax until they switched cars again and Leonard didn’t even put the blindfold back on her until they were back in the main van. The drive back to the warehouse was silent but despite the silence, everyone in the car was still riding the high of their success, except for Miss Six. It wasn’t a common thing for them to complete jobs without a single hitch by their standards, at least. This was a milestone for them. Although Miss Six was still angry they didn’t follow her plan, she didn’t even bother hiding her joy in Leonard holding her hand for the rest of the car ride home, albeit being blindfolded. She let herself enjoy this rush, allowing him to rub his thumb slowly and deliberately on the back of her palm.

Even with her blindfold on, she could feel Mick’s eyes burning through her.

When the car finally stopped and the car doors opened, Leonard whipped off the blindfold in a flourish, and they all piled out in unison to drag the suitcases of money into the warehouse. After they dragged off the last ones, Lisa ran off to park the van properly while Mick ran off to retrieve a bottle of champagne to celebrate.

As they both left the living room area, Leonard grabbed Miss Six’s wrist and spun her around to face him. He watched her skirt swish about, compelling him to yank her close against him. She fell into his arms and allowed herself to, numb from surprise, and rested her arms around his neck. He gazed into her eyes and they began swaying slowly in unison, even though there was no music. Miss Six sighed and rested her head on his chest, trying to calm herself by listening to his steady heartbeat.

This felt… nice.

He held her close. His arms around her waist and up her back felt right. The tips of his fingers stroking where her neck met her shoulder was soothing. His chin resting on the top of her head was comforting. His clean, crisp, neat scent was so inviting. As she kept one arm around his neck, she slipped one hand under the lapel of his suit jacket and stroked that spot on his chest quietly, wanting to feel his skin.

She shouldn’t be wanting any of this. And she was soon reminder was like a pound of bricks knocking her from behind as Leonard paused momentarily before continuing again. She started to work her way out of his arms.

“What’s wrong?” Leonard asked.

She felt the tears beginning to form at hearing how bare and raw the surprise was in his voice.

“Nothing,” she choked.

Leonard’s brow furrowed and he took a step forward with his arm out.

“No!” Miss Six gasped, backing away.

When she was sure he would not pursue her, she ran back to her room and slammed the door shut before letting the tears flow. She wiped her eyes and looked at the bed and saw the set of clothes from that day at the bank. Another marked reminder that she’s leaving tomorrow, she flopped ungracefully into the bed and cried herself to sleep.

–––––––

Miss Six woke with a start with something of an epiphany. She worked to open her eyes, which were now puffy and sore from all the crying. She quickly ran to the bathroom and wet a washcloth with cold water and placed it over her eyes. She sat down on the toilet and took deep breaths to properly rouse herself after waking up so suddenly.

There’s always been a draft in the warehouse. Yeah, sure, it _is_ a warehouse and warehouses are drafty, but it always permeated more in one side. She berated herself for not noticing something so obvious earlier.

She let herself sit for a little longer in the bathroom to soothe her eyes and then stepped out of her room. Silent, as expected, it must’ve been three in the morning. She shed her hoodie to be more sensitive to the cold, shivering already, as she did so. She started maneuvering towards the draft, rubbing her hands more and more furiously around herself to warm herself up. She was going the right way.

Miss Six finally found herself in front of a wall, the coldest, draftiest spot she could find, but it was just that. A wall. No door. In her shivering, confused mess, she glanced around, confident that this was a mistake. Unwillingly removing her arms from her own shoulder, she began running her hands on the cold metal, hoping to find some kind of some kind of switch that could help her. She inadvertently knocked off the cover of some light switch, only to realize it was hiding a keypad.

 _Why the_ fuck _is there a keypad?_

She let the cover hang off and ran back to her room, gratefully pulling her hoodie back on and went to the kitchen and grabbed a knife and two rubber dish gloves. She pulled them on as she walked back to the key pad and slammed the knife in as hard as she could and pulled back quickly. With an echoing crack, the keypad fizzed out and sparked and, before her eyes, she watched the wall slowly glitch out from its digital illusion to show the door of the warehouse.

 _Oh, my God_ , she thought, pushing the door open with shaking hands.

She stood outside in the cold air, inhaling the crisp air.

_I fucking won._

“You just _had_ to do it, didn’t you?”

Miss Six looked over her shoulder to see Leonard behind her, face unreadable.

“I won’t let anyone take away my autonomy.”

He stepped closer to her and gripped her hand. Miss Six sighed, feeling her insides on the verge of exploding, trying to come to terms that she will most certainly never see this man again, and this is driving just so much conflict within her.

“Please––”

He silenced her with a kiss and held her close. It was different from the kiss earlier today. It was quiet. Soft. Desperate in a different manner, almost as if he was trying to memorize the feeling of her lips pressed deeply against his. Miss Six felt the tears budding back up in her eyes as he pulled away. She gave a shuddering gasp as Leonard tipped her chin up.

“Please, just stay tonight. I’ll take you back tomorrow.”

Miss Six sighed shakily and looked back down shaking her head, trying to the form sounds to say, “No, I wanna go _now_ ,” but Leonard took her face in both hands and forced her to look back up at him.

“Please,” he said again.

She then sighed, exhausted, and finally relented, going back inside with him.


	9. Time To Go Home

They didn’t sleep. To avoid Lisa and Mick, Leonard and Miss Six laid in the middle of his bed together, side by side. Neither of them spoke for the night, only enjoying the presence of each other’s company, hand in hand. When she noticed the clock in his room shone 6AM, she spoke, asking the burning question she’s been silently demanding answers to.

“You already knew you weren’t gonna follow through with my plan, didn’t you?”

She felt Leonard turn his head to look at her, but she willed herself not to look at him.

“You’ll understand soon.”

Miss Six sighed and let go of Leonard’s hand. She was sick of the games and the cryptic answers. She rolled off the bed, and she heard Leonard quickly get up to follow suit. Now that it’s morning, it’s time to go and she felt oddly emotionless about it all. She went back to her room and changed back into her black jeans and white shirt. She inhaled her hoodie one more time to memorize Leonard’s scent of winter and evergreen trees.  When she came out of her room, Miss Six heard the van turn on outside and Leonard waited for her by the door with a skein of white rope.

Her heart rate began to climb.

“What are you doing?” she said as calmly as she could.

“We gotta make it look good,” Leonard said. “So there’s no suspicion that you’re an accomplice. Also, the less time you spend with the cops, the better.”

“An accomplice?”

“Central City Police is somewhat… _familiar_ with us,” he said amusedly, cocking his head to emphasize the word.

Miss Six sighed and although still unsure, found herself oddly trusting the criminal, and put her hands behind her back as Leonard went to work. The rope was a bit too tight for her liking but the material was so soft nylon and didn’t hurt or irritate her skin so she didn’t protest. They led her to the van outside and helped her climb in. As Leonard pulled the blindfold over her eyes, managed one last glimpse at him before her world was plunged back into darkness.

Lisa was nowhere to be seen as the car pulled away.

Miss Six did her best to stay awake but she fallen asleep and woke from city noises of jabbering people, construction noises, and honking cars sounded wildly loud after almost more than an entire month of being in an isolated area. She slowly sat up from using Leonard’s thigh as a pillow, vaguely noticing his hand was resting on her shoulder.

“We’re here, Baby,” Leonard said softly.

She heard Mick dialing 911.

“You’re not gonna like this next part,” Leonard continued reluctantly, “but we’re gonna have to literally kick you out the van. Remember. Makin’ it look good.”

The panic starting to bubble up over her relief.

“I’m never seeing you again, am I?” she blurted out before she could stop herself.

Her own voice felt far away. Miss Six felt his hand caress her cheek and she exhaled, savoring the moment, but also trying not to look eager by leaning into it.

“Never say never, Miss Six,” Leonard hummed, a smile in his voice.

Leonard yanked open the door behind her and shoved her out. Miss Six shrieked in shocking, jarring pain as her back slammed against the pavement, knocking the wind out of her. She curled her head into her chest to keep her from cracking her skull against the sidewalk but still managed a bump as she rolled to absorb the impact. She heard other pedestrians scream as the van peeled away. She laid on the sidewalk, still too stunned to move as the other people began bustling around her. Overlapping choruses of, “Oh my God, are you okay?”, “Someone call 911!” and “What happened?” echoed around as people started helping her up.

People began helping Miss Six sit up right, and she could feel her whole body shaking. Someone whipped off the blindfold from her face, eyes readjusting in now the very bright morning light, and some other kind stranger began working on untying the rope. Miss Six squeezed her palms; they felt scraped up from the fall. She still breathed deeply, trying to catch her breath as sirens got closer. She looked up to see the cops come screeching to a halt before and tried to ignore them running towards her to get a final glimpse of _them_.

The sound of someone calling her name brought her back to focus. A good-looking black man, middle aged, with a neatly trimmed goatee, knelt in front of her, his gentle eyes looking worried.

“Miss, I’m Detective Joseph West,” he said urgently, flashing his badge. “Are you alright?”

Miss Six suddenly felt very aware of herself and all the people looking at her. She heard the other cops running about, guns drawn, shouting something about securing the perimeter.

“I––” she started, sounding very distracted.

“Miss, we need to take you to the hospital,” Detective West went on after seeing she wouldn’t continue, “get you all checked out, make sure you’re okay and then you can tell us what happened. Is that okay with you?”

She blinked nervously at him.

“What time is it?”

“It’s… almost 2PM, Miss,” he said, frowning.

“Okay,” she sighed jadedly after a moment. “Okay, take me to the hospital.”

Thankfully, they didn’t force her in an ambulance. The ride to the hospital was a blur; it was almost like watching a movie as the streets whipped by. Miss Six clutched the fleece blanket that Detective West threw around her right before she got in the back seat of the patrol car. She exhaled forcefully through her nose and shut her eyes, trying to block out the claustrophobic flashes of people staring at her, taking pictures and video, while the police led her into the car.

On normal instances, she would’ve fought tooth and nail to not have to sit in the wheelchair when they got to the hospital, but she obeyed robotically, methodically, just wanting to get home. The whole time as the nurse pushed her wheelchair, Miss Six reflexively held Joe’s hand, large, warm, and comforting, like a child hanging on for dear life on a balloon.

“Hey.”

Miss Six snapped out of it. At some point, she was wheeled into a room and led to sit on the hospital bed. She wrinkled her nose; the air smelled like nothing but it felt like it stung her nostrils for some reason. Detective West leaned against the windowsill, holding a recorder in his hands.

“Can I get you anything?” he inquired, eyes and voice full of concern.

“Um…” she hesitated. “Some coffee and water would be nice. It’s been a very long night… and a long month.”

Detective West smiled sympathetically and left the room with a swish of his trench coat. He returned a few minutes later with a piping hot cup of coffee and a bottle of water, followed by a young man, seemly closer to her age. His sports jacket said CCPD on the chest, but did not have the arrogant attitude of an officer she was used to. As Miss Six focused on his face, her mood lifted; he was easy on the eyes, with his gravity defying coiffed hair, and lovely cobalt blue eyes.

He smiled at her and she quickly glanced down to avoid the impending flush.

Detective West took advantage of the pause and handed Miss Six the coffee and set the bottle of water by her thigh. She gratefully accepted, trying to swallow her blush, and took a sip. Black, with sugar.

“Sorry,” Detective West said sheepishly. “I made it the way I take it and didn’t realize it until I gave it to you.”

“I take my coffee like this, too. Thank you, it’s perfect.”

Detective West smiled and nodded towards the young man in the room.

“This is Barry Allen. One of CCPD’s most talented forensic scientists.”

“You can call me Barry,” Barry said in acknowledgment.

“He’s gonna be taking your DNA samples and what other evidence if can get off you. I’ll also be needing to record your statement as well.”

“Okay,” Miss Six said tentatively, “but I don’t know if you’ll find much evidence. They treated me well. Like, these _are_ the clothes I wore when they had kidnapped me, they also washed them and fixed my leather jacket.”

“Captain Cold and Heat Wave did your laundry?” Barry said incredulously.

Miss Six sighed and took a long, nourishing sip of coffee, savoring the heartening, nutty sweetness.

“Detective, I think you’re gonna wanna turn on the recorder for this.”

Detective West glanced at Barry, who pursed his lips and put his kit on the table to start his set up. Detective West turned on the recorder and held it up to Miss Six.

“Please state your full name, birthday, and address for the record.”

–––––– 

Lisa woke up, yawning exaggeratedly as she did so. Although accidentally starting to get upset at the fact that she woke up at 2:15PM, she remembered there was a giant pile of loot outside on their living room floor, which cheered her mood. She quickly slipped on her red satin robe over her red matching shorts and skipped outside.

“Sorry, I just woke up guys, let’s––”

The living room was empty.

“––count the… money.”

Her face fell a bit as she expected them to be awake, coffee and some sort of brunch ready, courtesy of Mick. He’d chuckle at Leonard’s uncharacteristic impatience as he paced back and forth. But it was chilly, quiet, and empty except for the heavy bags on the floor. Lisa quickly jogged to their respective rooms, hoping they were still sleeping in.

But there was no one.

Now feeling abjectly disappointed, Lisa trudged back to the kitchen and began morosely making some coffee. As the drip began to hit the bottom of the pot, she sprinted out the kitchen again, this time to Miss Six’s room. Expecting to accidentally rouse Miss Six, her heart stopped to see her bed made, the beautiful high low dress she wore to the caper last night laid neatly on the top of the sheets. The strappy heels were neatly put together by the bed. Her heart dropped further as she realized the guys have taken her home. As she was about to leave, Lisa noticed a slip of paper on the drawer. She thumbed it straight to read it, only to find tally marks; thirty–two.

They kept her here for thirty–two days.

Lisa’s disappointment quickly simmered into anger as she exhaled. They put this poor girl through hell for more than a month, only to have nothing to show for it than potential PTSD and a chunk of her life ripped out from this incident. Lisa walked back to the living room, quickening her pace until she was standing in front of their payload from last night. It was untouched and it’s true that the guy Mick had a disagreement with Leonard and was… strongly convinced to never come back to Central City. While Miss Six did not know this, Lisa proposed for her to take his share of loot, and strongly pushed for Leonard to release her after the job was done.

No, Miss Six, without a doubt, deserves all the reparations she deserves. From Leonard choosing _her_ to kidnap and not releasing her in the timely manner he promised, to Mick striking her in the face, that could potentially leave her permanently scarred, she deserves her share of the payload, whether she knew about it or not.

The three of them used to have a rule. For any job they did together, they locked the full sum together in a triple locked box, each of them having a different key. To keep themselves further from the temptation of picking the locks, Lisa had Cisco wire together an underground safe with cybersecurity that only unlocks if all three of them scanned their retinas at the same time. But they haven’t felt the need to use the Protocol in years.

Lisa glanced back at the clock: 2:41PM.

She had no idea how long they’ve been gone, but this was the time to do it. If they walked in on her, so be it. This was the right thing to do, as right a thing as possible. She ran to the closet and grabbed the cash counters from the closet and immediately started grabbing stacks and stacks of money until all eight counters were filled. Lisa flipped the buttons on, one by one, the methodical whirring filling her ears, and quickly began dialing on her phone.

_“Hello?”_

“Cisco.”

_“Lisa?”_

“I need you to run a name for me.”

_“We talked about this.”_

_“I know, Baby_ , I know. But this is important.”

A pause.

_“What do you need?_ _”_

The coffee’s done brewing.

––––––– 

Miss Six couldn’t help but be somewhat amused at the look on both the Detective’s and Barry’s faces as she recounted what happened to her in the last month. In fact, Barry even sat down to listen to her speak.

“So you’re saying that despite forced participation in a heist,” Detective West started, “and the multiple fights and altercations you had with Mick Rory, your treatment was more or less… hospitable.”

“Yeah.”

“But why did they suddenly divert from your plan for the casino?” Barry interjected.

“I… I don’t know,” she said as earnestly as she could.

Detective West and Barry glanced at each other. Miss Six accidentally let out a nervous, fluttery sigh and then panic began to set in. Her mouth felt dry as she moved to speak quickly, her words falling out in a jumbled mess.

“Look, guys,” she said shakily. “I told you everything. It’s weird as hell, I know. But I fought tooth and nail to get out. I had to pick the lock on my door, I was blindfolded every time they put me in a car, I was beat up, I––”

“It’s okay, ma’am, please calm down,” Detective West interjected after her voice quickly rose in pitch. He put his hands up as a sign for her to calm down. “You’re not a suspect here. We just want to understand the situation. Okay?”

Miss Six sighed and took a few deep breaths, nodding. There was a brief pause and Barry continued, somewhat cautiously.

“I hate to ask you this but you might know what my next question’s gonna be.”

She stared at him, waiting for him to continue. A rosy sheen glowed up in his cheeks.

“Um,” he said slowly, “we need to know if you were sexually assaulted at all.”

In a millisecond, her thoughts flashback to that moment when Leonard tackled her onto the bed and mauled her. She felt the heat rise in her neck, batting it away just as quickly.

“No.”

Detective West sighed, accepting her answer. He picked up the recorder and noted the timestamp at which the interview concluded and clicked it off.

“Thank you for your statement,” he said. “We may call you back to the station again, to clarify any potentially confusing details.”

“Okay,” Miss Six nodded.

“All you, now, Barry,” Detective West said to him.

Barry nodded and the Detective stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. He began pulling on his latex gloves and began the process. Something about latex gloves snapping onto someone’s hands have always been unsettling for Miss Six.

“I know you said there’s not much evidence on you,” he said, “but we never know. The smallest thing could help us find that warehouse of theirs.”

“Okay.”

The word _Okay_ no longer sounded like a word.

It was quiet aside from his quick questions, checking to see if she had a concussion or other injuries. Barry took her hand to scrape her fingernails, his own fingertips soft and warm on hers. He plucked a sample of her hair off the top of her head. As he worked, she felt somewhat lulled into a soft sense of ease around him, until he was about to swab her bottom lip. Miss Six winced in pain, and when she flinched, he sort of held her bottom lip with the tip of his thumb and index finger. She tried to pull away but Barry’s hand followed her. She blushed strongly. The action felt incredibly intimate and incredibly inappropriate. She was suddenly very aware of how close Barry was to her and this––unintentional?—show of dominance made her heart shake. Why does this keep happening to her?

“How did this happen?” Barry murmured, eyes fixated on the cut in her bottom lip.

Miss Six’s flush deepened as she recalled Leonard biting down on her. She finally pulled her bottom lip out of his hold, and it seemed to snap Barry out of his trance. He shirked back a bit, looking rather sheepish.

“I’m not sure,” she said levelly. “I must have bit my lip by accident when they pushed me out the van.”

Before Barry could answer, they were disrupted by loud banging on the door. Miss Six’s heart swelled as she watched James and Jason barreling through the door, their hulking shoulders fighting as they burst through the door. Barry threw himself out of the way as they both pulled Miss Six into a tight, bone crushing hug. She deeply breathed in their scents of motor oil and sandalwood as she struggled to get her arms around their necks.

Detective West came in just in time to calm Barry down.

“It’s okay. They’re her friends.”

They boys let go of her, James gripping her shoulders tightly while Jason towered over them like a sentinel.

“We’re done here,” Barry said, eyeing the guys as he pulled off his gloves. He handed Miss Six a contact card. “Y’know. In case you remember anything else. Feel free to leave when you’re ready.”

Miss Six took the card and murmured thanks and Barry left. She looked up at the boys taking long deep looks into their jeweled colored eyes and finally melting into their hugs. They said nothing as they held her, comfortingly rubbing her shoulders and squeezing her hand. They kept the consoling gestures until she exhaled. Jason smiled.

“Let’s get you a _fuckin_ _’ drink,_ huh?”

She laughed and James clapped her on the back.

“A fuckin’ drink sounds nice.”

–––––––

After two shots at a nearby dive bar, Miss Six felt the trauma and emotional stress from the day––and, not to mention, the lack of sleep––getting numbed and anesthetized.

“How ‘bout some food, guys?” Miss Six suggested as she motioned to the bartender for water.

“I’m downright starvin’,” James agreed.

The bartender brought back the waters along with menus. They quickly ordered. James went for the full English breakfast, Jason got the burger, and Miss Six salivated at the shepherd’s pie.

“So what happened?” James asked, the gravel in his voice low.

She sighed as she exhaled the burn from her third drink. She was so tired. Not just because she didn’t sleep but from telling the story already in such excruciating––albeit, selective––detail. But, she did what she could for the boys. They said nothing as they let her speak, too stunned to say anything. She sighed when she was done, not having a care anymore and just grateful to be in their grounding presence.

The bartender returned with their food. Miss Six was never one to forget her table manners, but in that moment, her hunger was voracious and she tore into her shepherd’s pie. She didn’t even mix the mashed potatoes in with the meat filling but she didn’t care. It burned her mouth but it was delicious, piping hot, and flavorful.

After the bartender cleared their plates, James motioned for another round, this time, beers.

“Listen,” Jason started. “You don’t have to talk about it anymore than you’ve already had to. We’re here for you. Any time you need us, we’re right there.”

“Thanks, Jason.”

“We also called your job,” James said, folding his hands. “They’re giving you two months paid leave to recover from this but you can go back whenever you’re ready. They also got you a therapist, they highly recommend you to go see her.”

“Wow, guys…”

“Right? Guess all that crap you take at that place is worth it, huh?” he chuckled.

Jason agreed enthusiastically by downing his beer in one gulp.

“Yeah, I guess so,” she said, dully picking at the label on her beer bottle.”

“Y’ know, that’s a sign of sexual frustration,” James said jokingly.

“Shut up,” Miss Six snapped, flushing.

The boys passed in their chortling.

“You’re blushing, dude, you never do that.”

“Well,” Jason bantered, “remember what happened when she was a freshman in high school with that Brendan kid? Couldn’t stop blushing.”

“Hey,” James started, abruptly cutting Jason off. “Is there something that you’re not telling us?”

Miss Six stayed silent, debating on telling them her omitted truth.

“Seriously,” Jason interjected, turning serious. “Did something else happen?”

Miss Six considered telling them but hesitated. She continued to pick the rest of the label off the bottle, deciding that if she still felt weird and unsure by the time she scraped it clean off, she will tell them about it. The guys stayed quiet, knowing she’ll talk when she’s ready. The adhesive was already scraped off and Jason smartly ordered one last round, and this time, it was their favorite straight liquor. She started talking about everything she left out when she talked to the cops. She swilled her drink and took a sip.

“He was dashing,” she stated. “Unusually suave. He’s like the human embodiment of winter. So cold, so sweet, so fair. Looking into his eyes was like falling into a well of icy water. His eyes are electric and she shocks you by just looking at you.”

She took a long sip of her Jameson, draining the glass by a third. She was oblivious to the guys making subtle expressions of disgust at each other.

“I don’t know why I was so drawn to him,” she muttered.

“God, you fool,” Jason guffawed. “You said it yourself before. This is just what he does and he’s clearly good at it if he got you hooked.”

“He’s not coming back for you,” James said, wincing at the harshness of his word choice.

“That’s the thing,” she continued. “He hinted that he is.”

She quickly explained that bit of the night, quickly finishing it off with a bit of a slur, “I don’t know why I didn’t just tell the cops that.”

The guys glanced at each other, an unspoken thought passing through them.

“I think we should stay with you tonight,” Jason said softly.

“Guys, that’s not––”

“C’mon, dude. Just let us do this for you.”

Miss Six looked down, a bloom of happiness growing in her chest and allowed herself a small smile.

“Thanks, guys.”

They took a cab back to Miss Six’s place on account of the drinking. She leaned her head on the cool glass of the cab window and rested her eyes. After a whole month, she finally got to sleep in her own bed.

They slipped out of the cab and made her way to the lobby, but unfortunately, she realized too late that she didn’t have her apartment keys. She kept groping her pockets for them, squinting in the bright florescent lights. She somehow lost them.

“Shit.”

“Can’t find ‘em?”

“Yeah.”

“I think I got a set!” James drunkenly exclaimed, pulling out a set of keys from his jacket.

She glanced at Jason, almost as if to say, _the one who usually holds it together, amirite?_ Still not understanding, though, Jason lazily batted his hand while leaning against the wall.

“It’s the set you left with us months ago. Here, let me.”

He plucked the keys out of James’s fingers and unlocked the door. They slowly started walking up the stairs, behind James to catch him in case he fell backwards. As they made what felt like a journey up to the third floor, Miss Six noticed she barely remembered the details of the building. It was just so telling that a simple month made her forget so much. When they got her back up to her door, Miss Six reached for her keys.

“Can I?”

Jason clumsily pressed the keys in Miss Six’s palm. She began to unlock her door; it felt so foreign doing so. As the door clicked open, a waft of fresh, lavender and lemon slipped into her nose. She stepped in as Jason kept James from tripping into the building.

It was just like she remembered it. The light gray couches and armchair look as worn and inviting as ever. Her video game and movie memorabilia still hung on her walls, not an inch from their proper positions. The coffee table was empty, as if asking for her to make a mess of it.

She unzipped her shoes and stepped out of them, wandering into the kitchen. The dishes were cleaned and sitting in the dish rack, waiting to be put away. James stumbled in and collapsed on the couch. Jason took his shoes off before walking into the living room and began pulling off his shoes. As he did so, Miss Six wandered into her bedroom. The sheets were smooth and bed was made. Her desk, normally supremely cluttered, was clean, save for her journal and laptop. Even her makeup armoire was tidied up.

Miss Six hypnotically wandered into the bathroom; also clean as hell. Noticing her confusion, Jason called out, “Oh yeah, sometimes we crashed here with Kari when we got a little too drunk. So we figured we’d just keep it clean for you ‘til you got back.”

Miss Six gaped at him, tears starting to spring to her eyes.

“You guys did all this for me?”

“Oh, no, no, no, don’t be mad!” Jason exclaimed, misunderstanding her shaky voice to have been angry for the drinking.

“It’s not that, you dumbass,” her voice, warbling.

She threw her arms around him. It threw Jason off balance and they both sank to the ground, Jason on his knees as Miss Six allowed herself to cry in front of another person for the first time in a month.

 


	10. Take a Shower, It'll Help

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting, I've had to deal with some personal things as of late. Enjoy!

Miss Six woke abruptly the next morning. She uncomfortably tilted her head up, eyes still cobwebbed with sleep. Sunlight pouring strongly into her windows, the thinning curtains doing a poor job of blocking out the rays. She was still felt mildly intoxicated, but decided she wasn’t hungover. She unfolded herself from the blankets, noticing she was still dressed in the same clothes as last night. Feeling significantly more refreshed, Miss Six climbed out of bed and peered out the living room again to see the air mattress deflated on the floor and the couch blanket, both folded neatly.

Despite the memories of her collapsing in Jason’s arms and drunkenly sobbing coming back to her, she sighed and smiled to herself, grateful at how mindful Jason and James are. She started peeling off her clothes, layer by layer, until her bare skin grew goosebumps against the cold air. She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself and slipped into the bathroom. Hot steam filled up as she turned on the shower, and she relaxed against the warming air, grateful to be back home. She stepped in and hissed, the water a bit too hot, but she relished in it for as long as she could. She soaked herself before turning and letting the high water pressure beat upon her back.

Every time she closed her eyes, Miss Six felt as if she was transported back to the warehouse. She turned the water a little hotter, the stinging making her forget a little more. She tried to envision the water was burning off the last month off of her mind and body until she felt dizzy. She quickly dried herself as she got out the shower and dressed in sweats and a soft tee, drying her hair furiously with her towel, until her arms eventually tired and she succumbed to using the blowdryer. Her stomach allowed an audible growl, and the sour feeling of her stomach eating itself gnawed uncomfortably. She quickly padded to the door, slipping on sneakers and grabbed her leather jacket. As she put it on, something tumbled out of the pocket.

Her phone.

She was stunned that he remembered to give it back to her. She furiously clicked the power button to turn it on and gasped to see the screen glow white as it booted up. The damn thing still had 22% after a month of no charge. Miss Six sighed as the notifications came pouring in, texts starting in aggravation at her lack of response, to concern, to straight up worry. Her hunger was briefly forgotten as she stood at the door to slowly text her friends and loved ones back. She couldn’t help but cringe at her responses; how is there an unawkward way to say, “Hey, my kidnappers released me and I’m back, wanna catch up on what I missed?”

Miss Six sighed, tucked her phone into her pocket, and left her apartment. She made her way to the coffee shop for her red eye coffee and sausage, egg, and cheese. Such a mundane activity and it still just felt so… surreal… to have her freedom back. It was only a month, but it felt like a year. She pushed open the door, the bells jingling for the staff’s attention of her arrival. Miss Six was a regular here and the baristas cheered at her entrance. She looked down bashfully over the different variations of, “We’re so happy you’re back home safe.”

Miss Six thanked them for the on-the-house coffee and sandwich and sat down at a table. She pulled her phone back out as she ate. The texts were out of control again.

_Where are you now?_

_We gotta see you._

_Can you come out tonight?_

She chewed on her sandwich thoughtfully, trying to formulate her plans for the day.

–––––––

Leonard woke up the next day, feeling drab. He was face down, drooling onto his pillow. He distastefully wiped his mouth as he sat up and cringed at the sore, tender, bruise crossing the width back.

He will never admit this. Shoving Miss Six out of the van felt like tearing a part of his soul and throwing it out with her. Like as if he tied a string around his heart like a tooth and she was the door and he slammed it with all his might.

God, what a mistake to let her go.

Leonard sat up and sighed. He unbuttoned his dark blue dress shirt, then his black pants, boxers, and socks, leaving a trail of discarded clothes from his bed to the bathroom. He awkwardly twisted in the mirror to look at the sprawling beam of purple stretch from his hip up to his shoulder. He rinsed the mistiness of last night’s alcohol before stopping in the shower, the temperature just mildly warmer than the lukewarm he typically enjoys.

Although Mick was silent on their way back to the warehouse, Leonard did not miss the clench of his jaw and when they got back, he was not surprised to find Lisa sullenly sitting on a chair, facing them as they walked in. Leonard made the error of asking what was wrong, to be just met with the sullen answer of, “Let’s just split the Pot.”

Before he knew it, they were done. A process typically taking at least several hours, depending on how big the haul is, was done in less than two. He was in his own car, driving his portion of the loot towards the airport. The silence of the last few hours was deafening and the roar of the airplane engines filled that void nicely. He tried to lay back and have a rest but found himself restless. Leonard let his mind just roam free for the next six hours, avoiding thoughts of Miss Six, before arriving in Switzerland. Bag in tow, he quickly crossed the damp tarmac to his favorite Audi V10, and made his way to the bank. That was always a short trip; although he’s been a VIP member for fifteen years and no one can touch his money here, he always preferred to keep these interactions brief, so he could take his favorite detour before heading back to the plane.

Leonard loves his luxury cars. Taking care of them and pushing the engines to their limits was one of his soft spots. He always appreciated the calm hum of a strong thrumming engine, and his V10 made it all the more enjoyable. Something that is so quiet and powerful put all the control in his hands and just made him enjoy the road all the more. The roads back home were nowhere near as winding and tough to master, unless he wanted to venture into the country, where it was nowhere near as scenic.

After his leisurely drive, Leonard enjoyed a private meal to himself at the Hotel de Ville. The restaurant was always cleared out while he was there, the chef and wait staff focused the entirety of their attention on him. He ate languishingly, cutting each piece of the buttery wagyu steak with almost surgical like precision. Each chew was methodical, calculated, almost like trying to commit the taste and texture to memory. A fleeting thought floated in his head that Miss Six would love this place, if he ever had the opportunity to take her.

When he finally arrived back in Central City, it was well past midnight, nearing 1AM. He happened to drive past a highway bar and decided to step in for a little bit of dubiously responsible drinking. The moment he stepped in, he realized there would be no way for him to get out without a fight, though he knew there was some part of him that was unconsciously seeking a fight out.

The bar was the most dingy, run down, trucker driver, redneck–hillbilly, makeshift gloryhole in the men’s bathroom through the tile, in the middle of nowhere bar that Leonard’s ever been in. There was literally only three other people in there, not including Leonard or the bartender. It was already very quiet, save for the shitty, weak radio broadcasting a baseball game but it somehow got even quieter once Leonard walked in.

He took calculated steps and sat down at the bar and said, “Glenmorangie, neat, please.”

The bartender, a rather dirty, unwashed fellow that reeked of weeks’ old body odor and stale beer, rasped back, “Does it look like I have any of that fancy ass, Glen–whatever here?”

Leonard smirked wryly. A cue ball clacked against its target on worn felt behind him.

“Tequila, then.”

The large shotglass the bartender poured his drink into was suspect. Leonard examined it closely and when he was satisfied, it was just an old glass, he downed it in one gulp. It burned terribly, a sign of cheap liquor.

“My glasses aren’t good enough for you?” the bartender growled, sloppily pouring him another.

There were drunken footsteps behind him as he picked up the glass. As he knocked back his second shot, he felt the presence of two other undesirables plop down next to him on either side of him, with the largest one stayed standing behind him.

“I like your coat,” the one on the left slurred.

“Thanks.”

Leonard slammed back a third shot. He was starting to feel warm.

“You shouldn’t drink and drive!” the one on the right tittered.

Leonard noticed he only had two front teeth and one lower canine.

“Well, I guess I shouldn’t have come into a bar, now, should I?”

The Bartender poured his fourth shot.

The one behind him must’ve been huge, as he laid a heavy, large hand on his shoulder. The rough, tight grip triggered his instinct and Leonard ducked down. A sickening crunch resounded in the empty room as the large fellow tried to swing a pool ball into his skull, only to miss and catch the guy on the right in the mouth, knocking out the rest of his teeth.

Leonard quickly spun in one–eighty and tackled Cue Ball to the ground. He fell with an echoing thud, while Toothless howled like a maniac at his bleeding mouth. The one commenting on his coat decided to smash a bar chair across Leonard’s back, knocking the wind out of Leonard’s lungs as he collapsed back into Cue Ball. He inadvertently inhaled and got a noseful of putrid musk and suppressed a gag. As Leonard struggled to get up, he heard another awful shriek, another impending chair attack coming at him. Leonard swiftly grabbed the leg of the now shattered chair, one with nails sticking out, and swung wildly, the nails stabbing into his thigh.

He went down, howling and gripping his thigh frantically to stop the bleeding. Cue Ball began grunting, trying to get up, and Leonard thwacked the chair leg against his temple, and he was out cold.

“Hold it!”

Leonard stiffened ad then froze at the sound of a shotgun pumping. On cue, he raised his arms and dropped the chair leg. He slowly about faced to find the Bartender, quaking behind the bar with the shotgun trembling in his hands. Clearly, he wasn’t dealing with just a pretty boy in a nice suit and car.

“Hey, I only wanted to finish my drink,” Leonard said, catching his breath.

“G–get out!” the Bartender stuttered.

“Well, c’mon, at least let me pay,” Leonard said, still working to stay calm and suave through his furrowed brow.

Money was clearly important in a decrepit place like this, and the Bartender knew that as his grip on the shotgun quavered some more, hesitating. Leonard took a step closer to the bar, a mistake as the bartender heaved his chest and threateningly shook the shotgun in his face. He’d be lying if he denied he didn’t feel a jolt of fear shoot down his spine.

“I’m just gonna put the money down on the counter. Okay?”

The Bartender, still quaking in his boots, gave a reluctant nod. Leonard took more steps forward until he was inches from the bar. He wiggled the fingers of his right hand to catch the Bartender’s eyes and slowly slipped his hand in his pocket. He fished out a hundred dollar bill out from his money clip, deftly folded it into eighths with one hand, and tossed it on the counter. The bartender blanched, clearly having not seen a hundred dollar bill in ages.

“For the four tequila shots, and tip.”

Leonard continued to watch him watching those rust wheels turning in the Bartender’s head on how he could potentially squeeze more money out of him. He grew exasperated.

“C’mon, man,” Leonard huffed. “That’s way more than what you should be getting. And I didn’t destroy anything else and I didn’t break anything else.”

“Extra,” the Bartender snarled, “for the cleanup.”

Suddenly, the pained, desperate sobbing of Toothless on the floor came echoing back to Leonard’s ears. His blood was splashing out from between his fingers and stained the already dirty hardwood floor. Cue Ball was still knocked out on the floor.

“Okay,” he conceded. “I’m reaching for more money now.”

The Bartender exhaled impatiently and his grip tightened on his shotgun. Leonard tossed his money clip, the bundle landing with a very heavy clank on the bar counter. The silence stretched on as the bartender reached for the money. Like lightning, Leonard grabbed the barrel with both hands and yanked the shotgun from the Bartender. Stupidly, the Bartender looked up with the money in his hands and exclaimed, “you tricked me!”

Leonard grimaced sarcastically and slammed the butt of the gun into his forehead, effectively knocking him out with a thump. He sighed, pumping the shotgun until the shells stopped popping out. He took a quick glance at Broken Teeth, who was eying the shotgun shells and said, “I wouldn’t, if I were you.”

He shirked backwards, almost like a broken dog, and sniffled. Leonard threw the shotgun across the room, snatched his money off the table. He nimbly grabbed his last shot of tequila and tossed it back. He licked his lips and exhaled through the burn and turned to leave the bar. As he pushed open the door, the bell rung and he felt a gust of wind crest over his close–cropped hair and a flash of red light danced across his eyes. Before he knew it, Leonard was thrown across the parking lot. He tumbled across the damp pavement. It can only mean one thing.

“You,” he sneered through the jamming pain in his shoulder.

Almost like a thunderous boom, The Flash––or rather, Barry––stood before his eyes. He suddenly felt himself getting thrown into the light post behind him, the wind knocking out of him. The Flash gripped him tightly by his coat lapels.

“What did you do to her?” he snarled, green eyes burning with fury.

“Ugh, who?” Leonard groaned, gripping onto Barry’s wrists.

“We had an agreement!” Barry said, growling the last word.

“Put me down, Barry.”

Leonard tried to hide it, but coupled with his now severely aching back, his arms were starting to shake. Barry let him down, dropping him to the ground unceremoniously. Leonard picked himself back up, brushing off his pants and coat. Barry pulled off his hood, his hair awry in multiple directions.

“We had a deal,” Barry said again.

“We didn’t kill anyone.”

“You hurt her. _You._ ”

“I never laid a hand on her if she didn’t want me to.”

Barry hesitated, furrowing his brows.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Leonard just smirked and straightened out his tie. Barry inhaled deeply through his nose, took a step forward and said, “You better tell me what happened right now.”

Len sighed, annoyed yet amused at himself for not forgetting Barry worked with CCPD. He leaned against the phone pole gingerly, careful to rest on his shoulder and not his back. Like Miss Six, he left out the moments when they kissed. Barry did nothing but listen intently. When he seemed satisfied with the explanation––undoubtedly comparing Leonard’s story to Miss Six’s––he crossed his arms and looked down, shuffling his feet a bit. Leonard cocked his head.

“I got nothing else to tell you,” Leonard hummed after seeing Barry did not want to speak.

“Keep your distance, Snart,” Barry said flatly.

“What if she can’t stay away from me?” Leonard snarked.

Barry said nothing in response as he pulled his hood back on. Leonard closed his eyes in anticipation of the rush of air. When the wind settled, he opened his eyes to find Barry gone. He meandered his way to his car and drove back to the warehouse.

Leonard angrily shut the water off and dried himself. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and he paused to look himself. He looked how he felt; tired. There were lines on his face he never noticed before. The purple under his eyes looked richer and deeper. He winced and looked away.

“You’re getting too old for this,” he murmured to himself.

He pulled on some fresh clothes and walked out of his room. It must be still very early. Neither Mick nor Lisa were seen or heard. Leonard found himself making a direct beeline towards Miss Six’s room. He grabbed the door handle and his palm tingled, as if her warmth still permeated through the door. He pulled it open, almost expecting her to be curled in a mess of blankets and pillows like he found her that morning.

The hollowness he felt made him wish he had met her under different circumstances so much more.

_But how boring would that be?_

Leonard couldn’t help but smirk as he walked further into her room. She made sure there was hardly any sign of living, save for the dress laid on top of the bed and the heels by the footer of the bed. He cocked his head to the side.

He wanted her to have that dress.

––––––

She came home late that night. Miss Six shut the door of her apartment behind her, leaning her back against the door, and twisted all the locks. It was exhausting today, seeing and talking to all her friends she hasn’t seen in a month. Most were tearful, grateful to have her back safe and sound.

She didn’t hear from her mom or dad.

Miss Six pulled off her shoes and filled a glass of water in the kitchen, and took a long, refreshing gulp. She walked into her living room and began unzipping her leather jacket and suddenly shivered violently, almost spilling her water. It was cold in here. Too cold. Bewildered, she put the glass of water down on her coffee table. It felt like the draft was coming from her bedroom. Miss Six cautiously made her way, each step cautious and quiet. Her heart stopped as she got to the door.

The dress was laid neatly on the bed and the heels together neatly close by on the floor. The window was open, the freezing winds billowing the curtains.

She shivered and drew her arms closer to herself, but instead of shutting the window and calling the police, Miss Six clambered out on the fire escape and began climbing up like autopilot. The chill from the metal seeped through her socks and into her bones but she couldn’t help but trust her gut on this.

When she got up to the roof, the first few flurries of snow began coming down. She zipped her jacket all the way up and breathed into her hands for warmth. There was no sign of him and she began feeling foolish for even running all the way up here to begin with but she could not shake the feeling off.

“Leonard!” she called out.

Her voice echoed across the roof and into the sky and she felt even stupider for thinking it would make a difference. The winter air now became biting in her skin so she accepted defeat and began making her way back down the fire escape. Right as she was about to climb back into her window, she noticed a glare from the opposite roof and looked up.

Leonard.

Leonard, in that dark blue puffer coat and goggles, just looking down at her, expressionless. Miss Six did not breathe. She did not move, even though the one leg she had thrown over her windowsill was starting to get numb. Leonard pulled the goggles down and let them hang around his neck so he can look at her with no obstruction.

It was him.

“Leonard,” she whispered in a longing breath.

As if he heard her or saw her lips move, Leonard smiled. And as quickly as he showed up, Leonard turned on his heel and stepped away from the edge of the roof, Miss Six catching the last glimpse of the fur on his hood whipping about in the wind.

 


End file.
